


In The Bleak Midwinter

by Prettie_Parker



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Broken but still beautiful, But he's warming up quick, F/M, Finding trust again, Grief is a bitch, Mentions of Character Death, Misery Loves Company, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Tommy shelby deserves some love, Tommy shelby is kind of a dick, charlie shelby - Freeform, moody Tommy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-03-30 22:44:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 70,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13961655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prettie_Parker/pseuds/Prettie_Parker
Summary: After Grace's untimely passing, Polly decides Tommy could use some help with Charlie and you find yourself working as a nanny in the most unlikely of places. But can you survive the torrents of Tommy's moods and grief?  Or maybe you're exactly what he needs to make sense of his grief, someone who's carried the weight of their own loss. And as the stakes get higher in the family business can you prove to be more useful than previously believed, or will no one make it out of this treacherous game unscathed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is on Tumblr, but I thought, Fuck It. I usually post my stuff here too.  
> This is sort of a hybrid. It’s first person (like an imagine), because I love how that makes it feel, but you are also a character, with a name and backstory. 
> 
> Also, it should be noted I love Grace and Tommy. So Grace will be held in high regard in this story. This story takes place in season 3. And this is my first Peaky Blinders story, so go easy on me. I’m full newb.

As the car takes the long drive up to the manor, you can hardly believe your eyes. It’s far bigger than anything you’ve seen in a long time, but you expect nothing less for Mr. Thomas Shelby.

The manor is a rich red color that reminds you of the clay that sticks to your boots after a heavy rain has washed away the top soil. 

The windows stare back you like blinking eyes - tall and plentiful, like gatekeepers for the secrets inside. 

With a grand stone archway entrance that announces you’ve arrived. 

It’s more than you ever hoped to offer Finn, compared to that tiny shoebox room you were squeezed in before in Small Heath. 

It’s quiet out here in the country too. No drunken men hollering in the streets, fornicating and fighting before your son’s eyes at every turn. 

The idea of working for Thomas Shelby is an intimidating one, as it should be, but it’s a chance for Finn. A chance for something more, so you had to take it.

Finn gawks in wonder as the car pulls up the drive. His jaw slack, eyes wide, and you have to tell him more than once to return to his seat while the car is still moving, as he fidgets about the vehicle in amazement at what’s before him. 

You catch the smile that edges at Polly’s face as she watches your son. And you get the sense you or Finn remind her of someone, someone she lost or maybe a former version of herself, and that’s why she’s extended this offer so graciously to you.

\----------------------------------------------------------

“Who’s this? Tommy said no more visitors.” A young woman asks as Polly leads you and Finn in through the entrance, ceiling so tall you have to crane your neck back to the top. 

With dark curly hair swaying around her shoulders, deep features, and fire in her eyes, surely, she’s a Shelby. 

And judging by the way she looks only a few years older than you, you guess she’s Thomas’s sister, Ada. 

You’ve heard of her too, you’ve heard of them all, but who hasn’t in these parts.

“I brought her here to help with Charlie, Ada. Tommy is going to need a hand.” Polly says with ease, as if she’s got it all already figured out. 

A beautiful woman for her age. With dark curly locks and skin pale like the full moon. There’s something bewitching about Polly’s eyes and the curl of her mouth that makes you think she knows everything, capable of anything, and probably both.

But the weary look Ada sends her way makes you feel less confident about the whole arrangement. Like maybe things aren’t as settled as Polly made them seem.

Turning your way, Ada looks you over. “And the boy?” She inquires with a tilt of her head, glancing at your son who stands nervously at your side, trying to look taller than his tender years.

“Her son.” Polly answers before you can.

That answer seems to soften Ada a bit. Her eyes easing off their edge as a small almost indiscernible smile curls at the corner of her mouth.

“A widow, good.” She says, mostly to herself. 

And the way she eyes you, as you stand silently hoping to be approved, you can see the idea of your loss eases something inside her.

“Very well, Tommy’s in the parlor.” You hear her say, as you turn back to Finn with the feel of his tug on the length of your coat.

Your eyes meet your boy’s baby blues as he gazes up at you as if he’s torn between sheer excitement and intimation being surrounded by all this. 

“What’s a widow, mum?” His young voice asks you as he stays close around your legs.

Finn’s never seen a place like this and certainly never stepped foot inside one. You want things for your boy, good things, better than you have, but you’ve only ever been able to scrape by. But this is your chance to change all that, your chance to give him what you never could before.

“Your mum apparently.” You say with a small laugh, smiling down at him with reassurance as you pinch playingly at the apple of his cheek.

“This way,” You hear Polly say as you glance back up with the sound of her heels clicking on the wooden floors. 

Taking Finn’s hand as your lead through the house. Deep mahogany walls greet you at every turn, ornately carved and shining. Beautiful things fill every space your eyes can reach. Things you’ve only seen in the pictures and could never imagine lying before you in full color. 

Finn’s hand reaches out in curiosity before you quick slap it away. 

“Touch nothing.” You scold him gently as fear speeds up your heart. This place like one giant bomb, set anything off and this opportunity could blow up around you.

 

Entering the parlor, you take in the sight of the walls filled with books as you follow Polly near his desk. Mr. Shelby’s seated behind it, only glancing up as you approach. 

He eyes you, you’re eyes catching as you feel Finn dart behind your coat. You don’t look away, don’t blink, you’re not even sure you breathe, it feels like a test and you’ll be damned if you fail it.

Polly starts in, pulling his attention as you suck in a breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

He’s not as tall you expected, Mr. Shelby. The myth larger than the man, but he has an energy about him. Bigger than life. Like a vortex, pulling all the energy from the room and pointing it squarely upon him. 

It’s in that moment you realize the mess you’ve gotten yourself into. Comin’ into the home of a man who’s just lost his wife, offerin’ to help with his now motherless child, the situation couldn’t be more bleak.

You try and smooth down Finn’s hair, drawing him out from behind you as Polly tries to seal the deal. Their words filling your ears as you turn back.

“Fuckin hell Pol, he has one. Just cause she’s- doesn’t mean-“ Mr. Shelby stumbles over his own words and you can see he’s growing agitated.

“I know, Tommy, I know, but you need help. Children require a lot of time. You have the business to think about and she needs a job. It solves both your problems.” Polly says diplomatically, and you get the sense she probably knows how to talk to him better than anyone.

“She looks weak, Pol. Skin and bone the best you can find.” He insults, his eyes surveying you briefly like an item he’s considering for purchase, but never meets your eyes.

It’s true, you could use a few pounds, but you’ve barely eaten. What little you have mostly goes to Finn. You take just enough to get by, keep going. You don’t have the luxuries of more, but circumstance hasn’t dampened your spirit. 

If anything, it’s made you more strong willed, you have no doubts what you’re fighting for. 

“That may be, but I’m strong and good with children.” You speak up suddenly before Polly gets a chance and all eyes turn on you instantly. Polly looks surprised, but Mr. Shelby, his gaze is to vacant to warrant anything worth counting.

“We’ll see about that.” He answers before rising from his chair and calling for the help. 

“Mary!” An old woman appears in the doorway behind you before Mr. Shelby summons her to retrieve his son. 

When she returns with the boy, Mr. Shelby is quick to take him. Holding him close as he walks over to you, his gaze cautious as he stands before you.

The boy is precious to say the least. With big round cheeks, sky blue eyes, and straight rust colored hair. 

He looks like his father, but the color reminds you of Finn’s when he was just a baby.

“Hi Charlie, I’m miss Fiona.” You tell him softly, smiling over at him as your fingertips dance along hair, the apples of his cheeks, settling on his plump little hand as he wraps it around your finger.

You catch the little boy’s eyes on Finn with curiosity. 

“This my son, Finn. He’s just a little older than you.” You tell him, explaining matters most would think are too advanced for a child of his age, but you always felt children understood far more than we gave them credit for.

Charlie glances back up at you and you greet him with a smile as you reach for him, praying he’ll trust you enough to let you hold him.

You let out a quiet sigh of relief when Charlie reaches for you in return and lets you pick him up. Placing him on your hip, you give him a gentle hug.

“Hello sweet boy.” You whisper into his hair as your hand runs down along it.

Charlie reaches for Finn and a smile breaks out wide on your face as Finn takes his hand, the boys enamored with each other.

Your face shoots back up to Mr. Shelby as he clears his throat. His eyes are hollow deep pits filled with raw madness that’s barely contained. 

He looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks. Perhaps he hasn’t. You wouldn’t know, you don’t know this man, but you need this job, so you stare back into his eyes as if the sight of them didn’t break your heart.

“Alright then,” He says simply on a low gritty breath, giving his approval as he sparks a cigarette. 

“But don’ touch anything in the house. Not a fuckin’ thing.” He practically spits out at you, his words shivering down your spine as you take it, because he isn’t the first man to send a blow your way.

“Mary prepare a room for Miss Fiona and her boy.” Mr. Shelby orders. And just like that, you’ve changed your son’s world.

\----------------------------------------------------------------

Mr. Shelby is cold and distant, and you expect nothing less of a man who’s lost his heart. So you keep your distance and attend to the little one. 

Charlie is easy to care for, easy to love. He’s sweet and joyful, and the boys have taken to each other easily. The only hardship is the way he breaks your heart every time he calls for his mum. 

You wish you knew her. Knew how to bring her to life for him.

The house is bigger than any you’ve ever stayed in, but still Mr. Shelby and his moods still manage to find you even inside these many rooms. 

You know you shouldn’t be surprised. Not after the way you heard his family talking about his current state earlier in the morning. 

But still, the way he comes at you, almost as if on attack, as if he needs to bite at something to lick his own wounds, and you’re the nearest one in sight, takes even you by surprise.

You’re preparing a picnic for the children since the sun has decided to come out from its hiding place when Mr. Shelby thinks it’s time to a have a word.

“I asked around about yeah…” He starts as he appears suddenly, standing across from you in the white tiled kitchen. 

You’re unsure if his interlude is supposed to stir a response, but you pay it no mind, barely glancing over his way as you await him to continue. 

“Thought I hired a good catholic widow.” He says, his words low and full of innuendo as he pulls at a cigarette on his lips.

Your hands settle from the basket you’re tending to and offer him the undivided attention he seems to insistent on having.

“I am a good catholic.” You tell him, looking him square in the eye, unflinching, because you’ve heard worse, from worse and you decided long ago others weren’t going to define you.

“Aye, a good fucking catholic girl who got herself pregnant outside of marriage.” He says, with that unflinching stare you can sense has a way of riling people up.

And it’s good, he’s good at pushing all the right buttons, because the indignant way he speaks to you easily serves its purpose and instantly you’re defensive of his claim.

“He loved me.” You defiantly tell him and anyone else who will listen. 

How dare he take the moral high ground. He may have friends, and those with loose lips who are quick to pass judgement upon you, but you’re no fool to Mr. Shelby’s doings either. 

You know about the Peak Blinders, everyone in these parts does. How dare he think he has a leg to stand on talking to you about morality.

“That why he ran off to the war stead of makin’ an honest woman of you?” He carries on, undiminished by the fire on your tongue. 

And you know you should shut up, leave it be. This man has given you a job, given you and your child room and board, food in your bellies, living in a place far more grand than any you ever could have imagined, but even now, all these years later, you can’t rest when others presume to know how your son came to be a bastard, as they are so quick to call him to your face and behind your back. 

“He didn’t know about the baby and when I sent word, he gave me his. Even from the pits of hell over there he promised we’d marry once he came home, but he never made it back. Swallowed up like the rest of ‘em to slaughter.” Tears biting at your eyes as you push them down and tighten your jaw.

“So you Mr. Shelby, you and all the others, you know nothing of it. Not a thing.” You unleash upon him. 

You know the sins you committed. Know the price you and your son will pay for the rest of your lives, but you weren’t some foolish girl who got taken for a ride. And you’re tired of the world pretending as if you were.

Mr. Shelby’s goes silent with your confession, his face expressionless, but his eyes hold upon you, steady with you. 

You get the sense you’ve taken him by surprise. Maybe he wasn’t expecting such a fervent response, maybe he didn’t think you had fire in your belly, or maybe what Polly had told you was true, he knows a little something about the prices of war. 

Whatever the reason, Mr. Shelby doesn’t speak again and as your burners cool, you begin to feel the need to backtrack before you ruin a good thing for your son.

“I apologize Mr. Shelby. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.” You say formally, cordially, albeit forced, before you scoop up the biscuits and jam, placing them into the open basket resting on the butcher block before you. 

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m taking the children for a picnic while the weather still permits.” You say softly before making a hasty escape.

You’re nearly free, basket in hand, eyes staying steady down around your hands as you try to slip past him, but his arm drops down, blocking your passage, and you’re forced to look up at him, awaiting his word.

In your short time there you’ve Mr. Shelby has a way of taking up space, filling even the largest of rooms when he stands in them. 

You find Mr. Shelby’s gaze waiting for you, and you brace yourself for the repercussion of your quick temper, but they never come. 

“I didn’t…” He starts, his words stalling as he pulls at the cigarette on his lips.

You can feel he’s struggling, fighting with an apology of some sort. So you set him free.

“No need. You’re entitled to your opinions, Mr. Shelby. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me and my son. Given me a job in all.” You say, the blue of his eyes holding you captive. The depth of them like a pit that could swallow you up if you stand too close to its edge.

“Charlie likes you.” He notes on a long breath, his words easing the tension thick between you.

“And I adore him.” You say simply.

Your answer pleases him and seems to diffuse the moment as he offers you a quick nod and lets you pass.


	2. In The Bleak Midwinter|| Part 2

It’s the sound of breaking glass and the scurry of Mary’s feet that gets you moving. You were just getting yourself a cup of tea before turning in for the night when you heard it.

You find Mr. Shelby a mess amongst the glass, cigarette still in hand, sprawled out on the floor beside his desk in only his drawers.

“Prepare his room.” You tell Mary in haste as you place a hand upon her shoulder.

Taking instruction, she turns and leaves in an instant, and suddenly you’re alone in his giant study. Just the two of you and walls that threaten to close in with a pain you know all too well.

Mr. Shelby has been in the hospital for some time from injuries everyone seemed vague to offer you details about. So you didn’t pry, and the matter seemed taken care of until Mr. Shelby finally returned home from what you only then learned was a fractured skull among other extensive injuries. 

Staring at him lying on the floor, you’re amazed he managed to make it this far with the amount of morphine he’s taking.

You swallow the lump forming in your throat and force yourself to go to him. You reach for his head first, running your fingers along his scalp, inspecting him like a mother would. Looking him over, you’re thankful he has somehow managed not to reopen the wound running along the side of his head.

He takes you off guard, his breath hitting your skin as he buries his face against your bare legs and wraps his arms around them, holding you close.

“Grace…” He breathes out against you.

The sound of it breaks your heart. You hesitate for a moment, unsure about touching him any further. He’s barely clothed, all warm flesh, and lean muscle, and he thinks you’re his dead wife. It feels wrong touching him when he’s so exposed, so vulnerable, but what choice is there. 

Gently you untangle him from you as you kneel down on the floor beside him, lifting the cigarette from his hand and quickly stub it out.

“It’s Fiona, Mr. Shelby. Let’s get you to bed.” You tell him before hooking an arm around him.

His skin warm against you as you try your best to secure his arm around your shoulders, because you’re going to need all your strength and his help if you’re going to get him off this floor.

“Leave me,” He groans in protest, his body heavy and solid against you.

“Afraid I can’t do that.” You explain as you take ahold of him.

“Come on, Charlie needs you. You’re all he has.” You say, clutching him tight at your side.

“On the count of three Ima need you to stand with me. Can’t lift your weight all on my own.” You tell him in warning.

Staring into his piercing blue eyes, trying not to let them suck you in from this close up. They’re bluer and deeper than any you’ve seen before and drowning in pain. They make you want to stare into them like staring into the sun. But you can’t, you must focus.

You suck in a deep breath and count. “One, two, three.”

Bracing your weight on your legs, you muster all your strength and grip him tight as you try to stand. To your relief he obliges, and together you slowly rise.

His stand is unsteady at your side, but his face is unyielding. He reminds you of your brother when he was like this. Intoxicated and helpless, but too proud to admit either.

Moving forward, you let a sigh of relief ease off your breath as he follows suit.

He's quiet as you leave the study. His silence familiar, because you know what it’s like to love and lose. To give your heart wholly and completely and be left standing empty handed. But not by the choice of your lover. No, this punishment comes from the hands of fate alone.

You move slowly, every step a measured feat as you brace his weight and steady you both. You’re still uneasy holding on to him like this, but one glance reminds you how broke he is and in need of a hand.

Moving for the staircase her portrait greets you. Big and grand, and as haunting as her spirit is in this home. You’ve never met her, but you feel her, down every corridor, in every nook. Her body may have returned to the earth, but her spirit is alive and well inside these walls.

Her beauty stares back at you as you catch Mr. Shelby transfixed upon her image. As haunted as yourself, though surely for different reasons.

“She was beautiful, your wife. And I can see her loss pains you dearly.” You take note of his grief. Recognizing it in the hollows that sharpen his face.

He turns to you slowly as those enchanting blue eyes suddenly turn cold.

“Fuck you know of it?” He practically hisses in a moment of stark sobriety, his pupils like daggers from this close up. The nicotine on his breathe enough to leave you woozy.

He’s bitter, and broken, and angry. And god, do you understand that pain. Know it intimately well. It nearly ate you alive once too. Nearly crushed your soul to dust. And for that reason, you look him dead in the eyes without a flinch.

“Because I know what it’s like to lose someone you never imagined livin’ without. To feel your belly fill with poison and your heart eat you alive.”

He stares back at you, drunk off morphine and surprised. His gaze long and hard, causing your feet to still so you both don’t fall, before slowly his eyes soften, but only for a moment before they grow expressionless and distant. A feeling you understand too.

As he looks away, you begin again toward the stairs, and you think he’s said his peace until his voice comes again.

“Finn father?” He asks, his voice quiet, low, and deep.

The feeling rattles in your chest. The old familiar hollows that never quite fill up no matter what you put in its place. Like an old wound that festered and never quite healed right.

Slowly you nod. “Aye, I loved him dearly.” You answer in all honesty. 

You grip him tighter around the waist as you ascend the steps. Feel his abs tense against your touch, but if he falls now you’re both done in. You feel his glance every so often, but his feet keep moving and for that you’re grateful. One step after another until his voice fills the space between you.

“You’re good at this.” He seems to note in an almost coherent moment.

“My brother, the whiskey had its way with him.” You explain, another hole, another loss nothing and no one can fill.

The walls feel stark and the steps steep as you feel Tommy eyes heavy upon you in the dark and your only grace is you’ve managed to make it to the top of the stairs.

“An where is he now, your brother?” He asks.

You meet his gaze, so piercing it holds you hostage for a moment as you nearly reach his room. The blue of his eyes in such contrast with the dark, they give you an eerie feeling they can see right through you.

“Gone. Picked a fight with the wrong men and paid the price... Truth be told, it was only his body they took. The best of him was lost to me in the war years ago.” You find yourself confessing on a heavy breath. Trusting the morphine will fog his memory by dawn anyway.

So much pain, so much loss. Leaves you understanding a man like Thomas Shelby. Because you too have found yourself on the floor a victim to your own unmerciful grief.

Moving into his room, you find Miss Mary with the bed turned down moving to assist you. You thank her for her help as you and Mr. Shelby reach the side of his bed.

With years of practice you get him on it, but he doesn’t let you go and you find yourself falling back against it with him. Your limbs tangling with an awkward unease as you nearly fallen onto him. With an uneasy laugh you escape the hold of his arm and slip free as Mary lifts his legs onto the bed and you pull the blankets up around him.

He has the highest cheekbones you’ve ever seen on a man, but lying in that bed, he reminds you of Finn and Charlie. And you find yourself sweeping the hair off his forehead even through you probably shouldn’t. 

He looks up at you. Something hanging in his eyes you’re not quite sure how to read.

“You’re quite pretty, yeah know that. Pol thinks I don’t know what she’s up to bringin’ you here.” He notes with understanding, his hand reaching up toward your face.

Your heart tightens with his words as you remind yourself this is likely the morphine talking.

You aren’t exactly a nanny. Polly knew that. But you are whatever you need to be to take care of Finn and survive. Except a whore. Never that.

Not that you blame the women who do. You understand the desperation. You just never could bring yourself to do it.

“Get some rest Mr. Shelby.” You tell him quietly, stepping back from his reach.

Wishing you could offer him more ease or a touch of comfort, but your heart doesn’t have any more answers then his. And your body isn’t part of the arrangement. So you meet his eyes briefly in the dark, then you turn and go.

 

* * *

 

Only once did you ever truly fear Mr. Shelby, when they took Charlie.

Course you didn’t know that when he came storming for your room as you were giving Finn his daily lesson of letters and numbers.

Yanking you off the bed by your arm, he pushed you up against the wall so hard and fast it nearly knocked the wind out of your lungs.

His hands gripping at your head and face as his breath seethed heavy against your skin.

“Why didn’ yea come today?” He demanded without warning.

“You said I wasn’t needed.” You spit out in confusion, nearly startled senseless.

The madness in his eyes holding you under a spell that can only be broken by the sight of Finn running up on him, his little fists swinging at Mr. Shelby as he carried on.

“Let my mummy go! Let’er go!” He yelled, tough and tiny as he was, but Mr. Shelby didn’t even flinch against your little boy’s wrath.

“Did you help him take Charlie? Are you fuckin workin with the priest?” Tommy demands as his hand grips tightly around your jaw and jerks you face back to his.

“Take Charlie?” The words spill numbly off your lips as his accusations begin to paint a terrible picture in your mind. Something has happened to the boy. You see that very clearly now.

“I work for only you, Mr. Shelby. Only you.” You insist on a haphazard breath as you feel the hands upon you tighten with Mr. Shelby’s lack of patience. His mercy thinly veiled and a hairpin trigger away from completely dissolving. 

Taken. The word rattles through your brain, spent like a bullet through the barrel of Tommy’s eyes and settles in the pit of your heart.

Tears burn at your eyes as you finally understand what he’s asking, what’s happened, and why Charlie isn’t here.

Reaching for Tommy’s wrists, running your fingers along the curve of his hands as his he grips you with no mercy, you look him dead in the eyes.

“I’d never hurt your boy, Mr. Shelby. I’d never do somethin’ to put him in harm’s way.” You swear it with every beat of your pounding heart.

You’ve never cared for another man’s child like you have Charlie Shelby over the past few months, not someone who wasn’t family. And unwise or not, your heart has welcomed him wholly, taken him in as if he were your own.

The thought someone has him. Someone who could hurt him, maybe even- The thought alone sends the tears in your eyes brimming to the brink.

“Never.” You swear on your life.

Tommy stares back at you, his breath hot upon your face, but as you stare back into his eyes you finally see. It’s not just rage brewing in there, it’s fear. Unadulterated, bone chilling fear.

Grabbing at Finn’s sweater, you try to pull him off Tommy.

“It’s ok Finn. I’m ok. Mr. Shelby isn’t going to hurt me.” You reassure him, because you can see it in Mr. Shelby’s eyes, he believes you.

Tommy holds you steady in his grip for a moment longer before stepping back, letting you go.

“Keep Finn inside, keep him close.” He tells you, his eyes holding yours before his hand settles upon Finn’s head, ruffling at the boy’s hair briefly as his gaze drops down to him.

“You’re a good lad, always look after your mum.” He acknowledges on a heavy distant breath, before he turns and is gone in a flash.

 

* * *

 

You’d tried to shield Finn from the fear and desperation coursing through your veins, but he isn’t a dull lad, he knew something was wrong.

You’d never lost a child and those you’d seen who had were dead souls walking. Carnage in a breathing corpse, awaiting the lord to take what’s left of them.

So when you got word Charlie was home safe, you swear your lungs finally remember how to breathe. And as Polly hands him to you, you held the boy desperately close as you brought him up to the nursery, Finn tailing at your heels as a sense of celebration hung in the air.

As you pepper Charlie’s round little cheeks with kisses and Finn scurries to bring him his favorite toy, you know it’s dangerous how you’ve come to care for this child, come to love him not unlike the way you love Finn. But you justify it as he smiles back up at you with his big joyful grin, because after losing his mum, isn’t that what he needs.

When Tommy returns home, he comes rushing into the room smelling of earth and clay, dirt still smeared across the lines of his face, and you feel as if you finally see Mr. Shelby. A man who would do anything and probably had to get his son back safe.

And in that way, you understood him. That kind of passion and willingness to do anything for your child.

As he pulled his son into his arms, holding him as close as he could. A look upon his face only a parent who’s seen their child’s death and come back from the brink of hell would know…

you realized, in that moment, you and Tommy Shelby weren’t so different after all.

* * *

 

Later that night there’s a knock at your bedroom door. As you lay in bed reading the same timeworn book by candle light.

Glancing over to make sure Finn’s still asleep, you slip from the blankets and pull your sweater on as you move for the door.

Pulling it open slowly, as not to wake your son, you find Mr. Shelby standing on the other side, alone in the shadows of the hall. Still fully clothed despite the late hour, hands stuffed in his pockets as those big blue eyes wait to take you captive.

“Did Charlie wake? I’m sorry Mr. Shelby. I didn’t hear him.” You question in haste, slipping out the door, pulling the knob behind you, until you feel Tommy’s hand settles on your shoulder as you try to pass him.

“No, he’s sleepin soundly.” He explains, as your bare feet still on the cold polished hardwood below.

Your eyes find his once again as you feel his breath on your face and you realize how close your standing.

Tommy seems to notice it too as you watch his eyes scan over the length of your body. In only your night slip, sweater hanging open at your sides, you suddenly feel bare.

Now that there’s actually food to eat, you’ve found your body rediscovering gentle curves right along with it. Curves that leave little to the imagination in only your slip as you quickly pull your sweater tightly around yourself.

You watch Mr. Shelby’s throat bob as he takes a step back from you.

He’s a man with a broken heart, who’s navigating an endless maze of grief with no signs or direction home, but he’s still just a man.

And getting pregnant young, being regarded as a whore by most, has taught you things about men, even broken-hearted ones.

They all need it, are weak to it, maybe especially the broken ones. The need to feel something warm wrapping around them. The feel of flesh and softness enveloping them.

Something to hold onto, something to get drunk off. They crave the escape or comfort it brings.

“You ever held a gun before? Ever shot one?” Mr. Shelby asks, taking you by surprise.

“We’re not safe?” The whisper slips softly off your lips before you can stop yourself. Words fallen straight from your mind and out your mouth.

He looks you dead in the eyes, a fierce determination you swear could make you believe anything.

“Your safe.” He says quick, as if there is no doubt.

But his eyes linger and you remember he’s still awaiting your answer to his question.

“I have. Once.” You finally answer.

And you have, once. Once when your brother owed the wrong people money after making a drunken wager he couldn’t uphold. They’d come lookin for him, lookin for their money, and when he didn’t have it, they were gonna make him pay in blood.

Your brother was all you had besides Finn. Only family that didn’t turn their back on you after the baby. Took you in after coming back home from the war. Lookin after you and the baby the best he could while only being a shell of a man himself.

Your hands were trembling that day, palms sweaty, but you weren’t about to let them take your brother.

“Good,” Mr. Shelby nods, pleased by your answer as he fishes into his pocket and pulls out a small gun. The sight of it makes you shiver and not from the chill hanging in the air of the hall. He extends it toward you, but you don’t reach out to take it.

You shake your head lightly from side to side as a tightness fills your chest.

“I have no training, Mr. Shelby. I fired one once, one time to protect someone I love. I did what I had to do, but that doesn’t mean I knew what I was doing.” You explain. You’re not some hired hand, some trained soldier. You can’t pretend you are.

“That’s all I’m askin.” He says calmly.

“You’re safe. You’ll always have men with you now. But after today- I need to know if something happened, you could do what had to be done.”

Now you understand, see the desperation edging at his deep eyes. After nearly losing his son, he needs to know you’d do anything to keep Charlie safe, to protect him.

“I’d protect him like he was my own.” You promise.

Mr. Shelby nods, hearing the words he needs you to say. Reaching for your hand, he draws it near, palm up as he places the gun down on it and closes your fingers around it.

You’re surprised by the softness of Tommy’s touch, but all you do is stare down at the gun, admiring the way it looks foreign in your hand. It feels cool and heavy in your palm, but you take it despite the unease it leaves in your belly.

It’s the feel of his blunt fingers running gently along the line of your jaw and down to your chin that sends your eyes shooting back up to his in surprise.

Mr. Shelby takes ahold of your chin, tilting you face gently from the side. His eyes looking you over as you stare at the inspecting furrow his brow, surprised by the tenderness of his touch.

“Did I hurt yeah yesterday?” He asks as if he genuinely cares, though you’re not sure if that’s true or what to make of it as his penetrating gaze floats back up to yours.

Then you remember the way he grabbed you yesterday, his strong hands grabbing at your face, jaw, and neck.

He had startled you, yes. Scared you even, but once you understood what was at stake for him. What had lit that inferno inside him, you understood his reasoning. You’d have done the same for Finn.

“No,” You reassure him. “No, I’m fine.”

He stares into your eyes for a long moment, his hand lingering at your face. The power of it making your belly tighten with each breath.

Making the darkness of the long hall you both stand in swallow you up, until it’s only his eyes you can see, his touch you can feel.

You want to pull away, know you should, but you can’t move. You don’t know this side of Mr. Shelby, it’s as foreign to you as the gun in your hand and it leaves you frozen.

Running his tongue along his lips, Mr. Shelby finally speaks.

“You weren’t a whore before, were you Fiona?” His question bold and obscene if it came from anyone else as the look in his eyes is set to start fires.

And there it is once again. That side of him that’s just a man. A man who’s looking for company, nothin more, because he dies a little more inside every time he’s forced to face the empty space in his bed and who it used to hold.

The side of him that let that mad Russian woman run around the manor a few months ago while you tried your best to keep the children safe in their beds. That on a drunken breath let slip his secretary Lizzie stops his heart from breaking on more than one night.

Just a man, so empty and broken inside without the love of his life that he’ll reach for anything to distract him from the grief that eats at him when the world goes silent. To quiet the ache of emptiness that echoes in his belly and pumps through his broken heart.

But you aren’t what he needs, there’s nothing you could give him that would bring her back. And you’re certainly not a whore.

“No, Mr. Shelby. Never.” You answer honestly, staring boldly back into his eyes, not backing down.

You like what you have here. Like the life it’s creating for Finn, but you want there to be no confusion about this.

You find Mr. Shelby is growing on you, you understand him in ways you never imagined you would and feel victim to the power he wields like everyone else. He’s terribly handsome, this you can’t deny. So if there was ever a man to consider the offer with…

But you can’t risk ruining this for Finn. Not even for the few extra pounds you’re sure Mr. Shelby would give you after the deed was done. And you’d can’t risk another baby, never that. The struggle’s been hard enough keepin Finn alive.

So, Tommy has to know, you can’t be bought and sold. Even if he is your employer and the master of this manor.

His hand slips from your face and you swear you hear a few words mutter low on his gritty breath. “That’s a shame.”

Pulling the case from his pocket, Tommy plucks a cigarette from it and pinches it between his lips as he glances back up at you.

“Call me Tommy.” He says, before lighting the cigarette, placing the case and pack of matches back in his jacket pocket.

“Goodnight Fiona,” He tells you with a nod of his head before he turns on his heels and disappears into the darkness of the hall. The spark of his cigarette like a tiny torch as he goes.


	3. In The Bleak Midwinter || Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You snuggle your boys close as Tommy rests his weight against the molding, his eyes slipping closed, silently listening to the old familiar tune. And you think, maybe, just maybe, his soul needed this memorial for her too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Comments and kudos are encouraged if you enjoyed it. If it’s shit, well hell, I tried lol.

If there’s anything you’ve learned during your time living alongside Tommy Shelby, it’s to expect the unexpected. 

Raisen’ a child on your own, you’ve learned to be resourceful, quick on your feet, but those were different dilemmas, like keepin a roof over Fiin’s head and food in his belly. 

This is as foreign to you as the size of the home you find yourself raisen your boy in. 

You’ve come to learn Tommy has an unpredictable nature. He’s formidable and dangerously ambitious, and he can switch on a dime. 

But even through that some things seem stable, unwavering despite the currents that rage inside him, like the love he has for his son and his devotion to his family.

Which is why you were taken by surprise when the Shelby family was suddenly rounded up and imprisoned. Coppers charging through Tommy’s very door no less. 

You didn’t see, mind you. You were tending to the boys as they played upstairs, but you overheard the ruckus. Surely the whole house did. 

And what you missed with your own hears, you later overheard the maids carrying on about when they didn’t realize you were coming down the hall to fetch warm milk for the boys. 

Talk of Tommy practically turning his kin in, letting it happen, and not raising a finger to help.

You could hardly believe it and if you hadn’t been in the home when it occurred you wouldn’t have at all. 

It seemed so unlike everything you thought you knew about Mr. Shelby. But then again, what did you really know about him? 

For all your months working under his roof, it wasn’t as if you spent much alone time with him. Besides the desperate solicitation he had made outside your bedroom door after Charlie was taken, everything has been cordial, albeit blunt at times and detached. 

You didn’t begin to understand the dealings behind Tommy’s actions, but as the other family members went away, a deeper sense of loneliness settled into the house.

Charlie seemed to sense it most of all. He missed Polly and his uncles. And on days when everything seemed dreary, the boy had a tendency to fuss about. 

On somber days such as this. Where the rain pelts heavy on the earth, slapping and running down the panes of glass that keep the weather just outside the door. 

Charlie seems bothered by it. You wonder if it’s the gypsy in him. The part of him that’s bound to this plane and the one beyond, that you catch Tommy muttering on about through the hollows of the manor when he’s refilled his glass one too many times. 

Or perhaps, his father’s temperament is finding its way into his heart as he longs for the ones beyond his reach. 

Either reason, the lad won’t stop fussing and carrying on as you try to settle him for his afternoon nap.  Not even all Finn’s silly faces seem to work.

 You feel as if you’ve tried everything, warm milk, walking him about, cradling him close, swaying him softly. 

It isn’t until you settle into the rocking chair in his nursery, Finn snuggle up on your other side as you begin to softly sing old songs from the homeland that Charlie’s fits begin to lessen. 

You pick songs you learned long ago. Songs your mother sang to you before the lord called her home. Those same songs you sang to Finn when all you had was your love to quiet his cries. 

Until you find a song that pleases the boy. A sad tune, one meant to break your heart, that has Charlie settling into your arms, his head resting against your shoulder as he begins to lull with the quiet tragic melody that plays off your breath. 

It’s moments like this you’re reminded he is truly his father’s son and can only be comforted by the unforgiving plight of some poor lad lost to the fables of time long ago.

You’re barely through the first verse, Charlie’s settled in the comfort of your arms. Finn hasn’t taken naps in over two years, but even he begins to close his eyes, when Tommy comes badging into the nursery like the trumpets of hell sounding his arrival.

“Stop, stop fuckin singing that. Not here, not in this house.” He demands, storming in like a bat out of hell, startling you and the little ones in your arms right out of the peace that was slowly enveloping you.

In that moment you’d throttle the man if you didn’t have two babies in your arms. But as you shoot a glare his way you see something in his eyes you hadn’t expected.

 Those deep driven pits stare back at you with broken desperation in their icy blues. 

A vulnerability in the depths of them that stands in such stark contrast to the normal steel of his gaze that he’s almost unrecognizable to you for a moment, or maybe you’re just getting a glimpse of who Tommy really is behind the mask of a man who preseveres, but suddenly you understand… 

This is about Grace.

The wind is instantly knocked out of your sails and whatever anger you had is gone. 

Because you understand. There was this distinct smell that hung on Finn’s father from the brand of cigarette’s he smoked and after he was gone, you use to get so angry when you’d smell it on other men. 

Why did they get to move about, smokin’, and breathin’, and livin’ while he was dead and buried in the ground?

“Sorry Tommy, Charlie just loved it so. I didn’ know it- I didn’ know.” You stumble over your own tongue, unsure of what to say and unwilling to say the word, the name that is really at the root of this. 

That look in Tommy’s eyes tells you more than words need to, this must have been a song she sung to him and the boy.

“Any song but That.” Tommy demands, holding your gaze for a moment longer as his eyes grow steady and firm, before he turns quick and storms out of the nursery. 

But it’s the pain in his deep haunting eyes that stays with you long after he’s gone. The pain you’ve grown to know is ever present under his skin. 

Often masked under the persona of Thomas Shelby - head of Shelby Company Limited, the Peaky Blinders, the gangster – with his well-made suits and poised demeanor, but under it all is still the man who lost the love of his life, his heart.

Drawing the boys close as to settle them back in, you turn to Charlie first as he begins to squirm in protest.

“Alright Charlie, we got the word, another song.” You say, running your fingers along the little boy’s hair as you try singing another tune, but Charlie is having none of it.

“No, no.” He struggles against you, tears welling up in his tender blue eyes.

“That song mummy. We want that song.” Finn chimes in right along with Charlie.

Your eyes scan between your two boys. Your sweet boys, not both entirely yours, but your heart hardly knows the difference these days.

“I’m afraid I can’t boys.” You try to explain.

“Song, song.” Charlie carries on, right on the heels of Finn every time you try a new tune and you try not to let his response break your heart, but you’re losing that battle. 

Because you know as much as Tommy misses Grace, Charlie misses her too. And maybe having a piece of mum, just for a moment, is what his little heart needs.

And you think maybe Tommy realizes that too when he suddenly comes charging back in the nursery. 

Moving so quick you wonder if he’s trying to do this before he changes his mind.

“Fuck it, sing it, sing the fuckin song.” You stare over at him in wonder for a moment. 

At the man whose heart is breaking with the memory of his dead wife, but will suffer through that pain if it makes his little boy happy.  

“Sing.” He insists, startling you out of your reverie.

Glancing back down at the boys, you softly smile at your Finn, placing a kiss upon his head, before your smile slips over to shine down on Charlie.

“This one’s in honor of your mum, Charlie.” You whisper softly to the boy, snuggling them both close as you give his hair a brief kiss before you begin again.

The boys instantly settle against your chest and shoulder once again. Snuggling close, the rocking chair creaks as you work your way through the first verse. 

You catch sight of Tommy out of your periphery, glancing over as he turns to leave, but then he surprises you. 

He stops, his back steady and broad as it faces you before he slowly finds his way over to the doorframe. 

You snuggle your boys close as Tommy rests his weight against the molding, his eyes slipping closed, silently listening to the old familiar tune. 

And you think, maybe, just maybe, his soul needed this memorial for her too.

* * *

 

Without the Shelby family dropping by for visits, coming and going at all hours of the day and night, the manor steadily grows quiet. 

Polly’s big booming smile and sharp wit no longer fill the space with light and laughter. 

John and his family no long fill the manor with thunder and chaos only a small herd can bring. 

 Arthur’s billowing voice doesn’t echo down the halls and Michael’s poised composure doesn’t sneak up on yeah. 

Ada returned to the states with Karl. 

The manor feels large, hollow, and empty. And like Charlie, eventually even the loneliness finds Tommy.

You can see if creepin in slowly as Tommy seeks you out more often. 

Someone close to kin, but not quite. Carin’ for Charlie as you have, you’re more than the help, but less than a Shelby.  

He’ll appear suddenly where you are in the manor sometimes in a way you sense is supposed to seem like chance, but given the size of this place and the fact that you’ve never run into him there before, you get the sense it’s not. 

You get the sense most things are very preplanned and precise when it comes to Tommy.

When he tries to talk with you, it’s a struggle at best in the beginning. Its clear Tommy isn’t much for small talk and his efforts feel forced, but it’s those eyes of his that get you. 

Like windows into his soul when he’s willing to open them. Willing to let you see inside. 

And knowing he’s struggling too, not only with losing his wife, but the rest of his family now too, you try to carry the conversation when he feels the need to talk with another. 

He isn’t a bad man. A man who’s done bad thing, yes, but a bad man wouldn’t have done everything Tommy has for you and your boy.

That’s why you know you shouldn’t be surprised when you find him in the kitchen, standing under the bright light, hand braced against the white tiles, gaze distant as he faces the doorway you’ve just come in through with a drink in his hand. 

Standing there as if he were already doing something, though you’re not sure he was, other than sipping at his drink. 

You had just come down to brew some tea before turning in for the night. It’s a habit you do often enough, surely, he must know. 

You’ve learned, Thomas isn’t one to mince details.

“Have a drink with me.” He says, and you suppose it’s meant to sound like a question, but you know he isn’t asking.

You search his eyes for his intentions. You trust those. Those icy blues. When he lets you in. 

Let’s you see him, you have no doubts what you’re getting is the truth, but tonight his eyes look overworked and beaten down, so you trust what you’ve learned about Tommy since working for him and since you’ve gotten to know each other a little better.

“Alright.” You say with a nod and follow as he turns for his study without another word or glance to see if you’re coming.

Entering first, Tommy stands at the door and waits for you. 

You notice he’s still in his button down, tie and vest, but at least he got rid of his jacket since coming home just before Charlie went to bed.

Walking in, you meet his gaze briefly before being drawn over to one of the many walls full of books that line his study. 

Admiring the sheer number of them, his vast collection. This was your idea of treasure, more books than you could ever read.

You turn back over your shoulder as the sound of the door creaking closed catches you ear. 

You’ve shared words before, but never at night, alone, in his study. Tommy meets your gaze with a knowing look as he pulls the door almost closed, but doesn’t latch it.

“I appreciate my privacy Fiona, but if I close it all the way the maids ‘ill think we’re fuckin in ‘ere. That Ruth, she’s a hell’va hand, but all ears, that one.” Tommy tells you, something close to a smile edging on his face as he moves from the door and over to his liquor cabinet.

You can’t fight the smile that creeps on your face as you revel in the wonder of hearing Thomas Shelby crack a joke. 

You like this lighter side to Tommy, it calms your defenses as he easily disarms any lingering concerns you had about joining him alone in his study for a drink.

“What’ll you have? Got whiskey, gin, rum…” Tommy rattles off from across the room as your fingertips graze gently along the spines of the books that line his walls, reading off the titles in your mind. 

Some you’ve only dreamt of reading. Other’s you’ve never heard of at all. A few you can almost remember vidily.

“Whiskeys fine.” You answer back absently.

One book in particular catches your eye. A tale your brother loved and read more than once before he went off to war and came back with a lack of love for much of anything, besides the booze. 

Even now, after all this time, you still miss those days from before, long for the simplicity of them and the joy they held before the world came swinging at you. 

You’re so entranced in your memories that simple book could bring you don’t realize Tommy’s joined you until his voice picks up at your side.

“You like books?” He asks, handing you your drink.

You glance his way, ripping yourself from times long past and take the short glass he’s offering into your hand as you nod.

“I do, but I haven’t many of them I’m afraid.” You answer honestly, taking a sip and letting the liquor warm its way down your throat. 

It’s smooth with a warming burn, better than any whiskey you’ve had in a long time, but you’d expect nothing less from a man like Thomas Shelby.

“Borrow any you like, Fiona. They’re just sittin’ here. They should be read. Just put ‘em back after you’re done.” Tommy says so easily as he turns from you and moves for his favorite chair, as if he hasn’t just given you the key to a vault full of treasure.

You’re stunned for a moment, shocked by the gravity of his generosity and you wonder if a man of his stature and wealth even understands the weight of his gift to you, but then you remember where he’s from, and you think, he probably knows exactly what’s he’s offering you.

Pulling one off the shelf, the one your brother loved, you clutch it close to your body like a token memento and turn to join him, settling on the leather couch across from his chair.

“Thank you, Thomas,” You say, your fingers thumb across the lettering of the title as you sip at your drink. 

You feel the whiskey settle in your belly and warm your insides. 

It’s rare for you to drink, but you’ve found you do it more often since working for Mr. Shelby. Never alone, but when an occasion would arise, the family always seemed to celebrate with some spirit of choice.

The whiskey makes you think of his family. Especially Polly and John. 

You didn’t know John well, but you always felt drawn to him. Eager to steal a moment of his time when he came by the house and he was always kind enough to give it. 

He reminds you so much of your brother in a way that sooths an old broken heart. Boisterous, vulgar, and funny, with a softness to match that baby face, he coulda practically been your brother’s twin. 

And Polly… She’s not your kin, you barely knew her before all this, but you’ve learned she has balls bigger than any man, and she helped you when no one else would have. Changed your whole world around for you and your boy. That’s not a gift that’s easily forgotten or a debt you could ever fully repay.

Pulling the glass from your lips, you turn your eyes onto Tommy. 

Find him mulling over papers, work no doubt, always work these days, but that man has keen senses and feels your stare as his gaze drifts up to meet your own.

“What’s gonna happen to Polly and the others, Tom?” You ask him boldly. 

It’s not your place. It’s not business. Not your family. But you like to think after your time living here together, you’ve reached a place where you talk to him. Ask him things that really matter. 

And no one’s ever accused you of not speaking your mind. Your headstrong, even with men. Your father loved that about you until your headstrong ways got you into a predicament that dishonored the family. Then they turned their back on you. 

But Tommy needs his family and they need him, that’s plain as day even to someone as simple as the help.

Tommy stares back at you, his face a blank slate, and you’re unsure if you’ve angered him or taken him off guard.

“I’m gonna get them out.” He finally tells you, matter of fact, as if there was no doubt. And with the command a man like Tommy has, you believe it. 

You can see he misses them. The whole matter plagues him far more than those give him credit. Complicated, as families often are, but you can see in his eyes, he did what he did for them, not against.

Grabbing his drink, he takes another sip before placing it on the coffee table. 

His gaze trained upon you. Those eyes of his, you can tell the wheels are spinning in his mind as he pulls a cigarette from the case and sparks a match. 

Taking a long drag, he pulls it from his lips and lets the smoke blow free before he speaks again.

“You think I’m a bad man, Fiona.”

You stare back at him surprised by the caliber of his response. Unsure if it’s a question or a statement, but it feels it bit like both. 

The weight of his statement settles in your belly as it mulls around in your mind. 

You know what Thomas Shelby does. You’re no fool. Far from it. You’ve heard of the beatings, the cuttings, and the killings. 

Unspeakable acts you were raised to believe would send a man straight to hell, and you’d have believed that too until you came here. 

But you’ve seen the gentle way with which he handles Charlie. The light that used to fill his eyes as he’d scan over a room full of his family. The love and longing both alive and at war in his eyes as he stares at a picture of his dead wife. 

Even the generosity he’s shown you and your son. He’s treated you both better than you ever could have imagined, asked for less, given more. 

All little moments you’da never been privy to before coming here. All moments that have shown you who Tommy is and what he does are different things.

You suck in a breath, feeling the weight of his stare, having collected your thoughts as best you can.

“I think yer a complicated man, Tommy. Ambitious and strong willed, sometimes to a fault perhaps. I think you make tough decisions, but you try and make ‘em the best you can. And I think family is everythin’ to you.” You say, holding his gaze for every word. Those deep icy eyes that wield more power than any man should hold with a stare.

Tommy takes in your words for a moment, before breaking your gaze. 

Drawing his glass to his lips, he downs the remaining contents in one big gulp before placing the glass back down.

“Hmm…” He answers, practically a hum as he takes another long pull from his cigarette.

Tommy’s hard on himself, that you don’t say, but another fact you’ve learned. 

For a man who’s accomplished such incredible things, risen in the ranks higher than most men could ever dream from where he started, he still thinks he hasn’t earned it. Doesn’t fully deserve it. Is the bad man they all make him out to be.

Sensing this talk may be done, and finishing his drink may have been Tommy’s way of putting an end to it, you follow suit.  

Swallowing the remainder of your drink, you place the glass carefully down on the coffee table before you.

“But what do I know, Tommy? What does it matter what I think?” You add, you’re just Charlie’s nanny. 

And while you’re much more than that as a woman and a person, you’re not here, not to him. That’s the luxury of power, he needn’t bother with your thoughts at all if he doesn’t want to.

Tommy leans forward in his chair; the movement catches your eye and draws you to it. 

He stares at you. That stare that sends a shiver down your spine. Like he’s lookin right through you. Deep down into the pit of your soul. And says something that takes you completely by surprise.

“Matters to me.” Tommy says, in that low gravel voice that seems to vibrate off your skin and suck all the air out of the room.


	4. In The Bleak Midwinter || Part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are moving along for this pair. I place this part a little before season 4. Hopefully this isn’t moving too slow or boring for your liking. I know it’s not smutty like the fandom usually likes. Maybe we’ll get there. If I can work up the nerve. Also hope you find Fiona (Yourself lol) interesting enough.
> 
> As always Comments and Kudos are greatly appreciated! And I just want to say Thank You for the love the previous parts have gotten! This fandom is amazingly kind and generous! You all rock!

Tommy keeps his word. He gets the Shelby family out of prison. But it changes nothing. The scar runs too deep, the burn too scorched. The family is done with him, except for Ada and Michael. 

And having them home, but still choosing to shut Tommy out of their lives is almost more painful to watch than when it was the iron bars that kept them away. You know they have their reasons. Good reasons. But you don’t live with them. You live with Tommy and it’s through his eyes you see the silent suffering their absence brings.

Time has a way of settling things, putting down foundations and letting roots take hold. That’s how things feel between you and Tommy these days. It’s hard for you to define, so you don’t bother trying. You find you’re no longer just Charlie’s nanny, this you know. But you’re not a Shelby either. 

You don’t warm his body, he likes to keep a variety of whores for that these days, but when he’s home and not buried in his work, he’s with you and the boys. And after the boys go to bed, you often find yourself seeking him out or the other way around. Never in a way that would complicate matters worse, but Tommy’s grown to trust you, he values your opinion, and you feel likewise. 

Tommy may have lost his family, but he and Charlie have become yours. The only family you and Finn have.

So you find yourself drawing Tommy near as his family pushes him away. It’s a feeling you understand, having experienced your own kin turning their back on you when you chose to keep Finn. 

You care about Tommy. Worry about his welfare and want the best for him. He’s so lonely these days. 

You can see it in his tired eyes and you’ve heard as much from Lizzie. An unluckily ally of sorts, but she loves Tommy. And her love has brought her concerns to your door a time or two. She looks after Tommy at work and you try to from home.

You pull him in close and the more isolated Tommy becomes, the more you feel him pulling for you right back. 

Sharing a nightcap with him almost every night these days. You listen to his problems about work, his ideas for expansion. You find yourself growing more business savvy by the day, always eager to let your mind grow. 

You invite Tommy to come along on adventures with you and the boys. Try to enmesh him in something real that his otherwise lonely existence doesn’t provide.

That’s how you end up dragging him on a walk with you and the boys around the grounds. Though persuading him has become far easier than it used to be.

It’s been raining for days and with the sun finally coming out, you knew you needed to get the boys some fresh air before they tear apart the house. Too much energy in their wee little bodies to be contained inside these walls any longer.

They race forward like the roar of thunder rolling in, ahead of you and Tom, but still in sight. 

 Running through the rich green grass that covers the front of the manor, the blades sparkling in the sunlight with drops of rain still fresh and thick upon their tops. 

The boys run as fast as their little legs can go, their shoes and legs’ll be wet by the time you make back to the manor, but it’ll be worth it.

Tommy strolls easily at your side, sharing a leisurely pace as he stares on ahead, hands stuffed in his pockets.

Glancing up ahead, you see Charlie turning over a rock and pulling worms out of the thick muddy earth. Turning them over his hand as he looks them over carefully.

“He’s inquisitive. Is that his mother’s nature?” You ask, drawing Tommy out of that head of his and back to the simpler joys in his life. 

As Charlie grows into a young lad, you see things in him that don’t remind you of Tommy. 

He’s very much like his father, but there are qualities the pair don’t share, and when you see them, you can’t help but wonder… is that Grace peaking through?

The question lingers a few long heartbeats between you and Tommy, and when his throat suddenly clears as if something’s choking him, you instantly regret your choice of words.

“…I’m sorry, Tom. I shouldn’t of-” You try retracting your question. Feeling you should have just let it be, but he takes you by surprise.

“No, no, it’s fine… She was… She had a curiosity to her. She liked diggin’ things up, you could say.” Tommy shares, his gaze lingers on ahead with the boys and miles away from you, but his voice is deeper, richer, and more heavy with talk of times long past.

“Sounds like Charlie.” You say with a smile. Gazing over at him, wishing you could soften the firm line that’s formed on his mouth. 

It’s hard seeing Tommy struggle with it, the weight of old ghosts as his steps picks up just a hair faster, but he never leaves you behind, not even when it strings. 

Tommy doesn’t talk about feelings, even you know that. He’s completely walled off his heart, but sometimes you think it’d do him some good if he did.

“What about Finn, is he like his father?” He asks after a long pause, changing to the subject the way he does so well.

Your eyes glance back over at him and find his sterling blues waiting for you this time. You hold his gaze for a long moment soaking in the way his piercing blue eyes can feel, the way Tommy’s charm can make you captive to his will, before you turn back to the warmth of the sun.

“He’s funny like his father. Kind and gentle like him too.” You answer, memories of long ago stirring free in your mind. 

Memories of stolen looks and long walks, where he’d have you laughing so hard you’d nearly trip. 

Memories of a boy who’d hang on your every word when you’d tell him what you really thought of the world and the injustices in it, especially for women. 

How in your youthful naïveté you believed you could make things different. Like running your own business one day and only hiring women, and he always believed you. 

Even now your heart pounds a little harder as you remember the way he’d look at you with those big dark eyes of his, like you were the only girl in the world who could catch his eye, like he believed you could change the world. 

Nearly eight years later, you still feel the loss of him. You still find yourself wondering what could have been. Wishin Finn could have known his father. And you’ve come to realize, you probably always will.

True to form, Tommy can only sink beneath the tide for so long before he has to fight his way back to the surface. Sometimes you think he’s afraid he’ll drown down there if he stays too long. 

Without missing a beat, he quickly changes the subject as he sparks up a cigarette.

“Why didn’ yea ever marry, Fiona? Surely some poor bloke could look past youthful indiscretion. The rest of you is certainly suitable enough.” Tommy says, suddenly shifting gears with that low gruff voice of his shaking you loose of your thoughts. Smoke dancing and swaying past his lips, encircling you both before it drifts on by.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes with his slightly slighted compliment. Knowing he did truly mean only good things by it.

“There was a man once… After my brother died…” You tell him as your gaze drifts out on ahead, catching sight of Finn and Charlie as they chase after a group of birds that made the mistake of landing not too far off from them.

You contemplate your next words carefully as you stare out at your boys. You feel Tommy’s gaze find you in the lingering silence. You can always feel the weight of his stare.

You’re apt to hold your tongue and leave it at that, but then you remember a story about the bleak midwinter. A story Tommy shared with you one night not too long ago. Sitting by the crackling fire in his study, drink in one hand, smoke in another, clearly missing his brothers more than he’d ever admit. 

Tommy tells you of a time that changed everything in him the war hadn’t already stolen. Snuffing out the last shred of the boy who had left Birmingham before the war. 

A night that made you finally see Tommy Shelby for who he truly is. A man living beyond the boundaries of mortality, unafraid of death because he had already faced it and was now living on borrow time. 

Extra he had called it, this was all just extra. And feeling the weight of his stare now, you think, if he can share all that with you, you want to share this with him.

Snaking your arm around his, you lean your head against the shoulder of his coat. 

Tommy doesn’t miss a beat as you embrace him. You’ve found he likes it, little touches. You think he craves the feel of something real.

“But he loved the whiskey more than anythin else, an’ his temper was quick, an’ hands strong when he took to it. I could have looked past that, mind you. For Finn I could have looked past a great deal… but he wasn’t kind to Finn either…” You confess, digging up a part of your past you’ve never spoken of as your throat tightens and you bury your cheek a little deep into the wool of his coat with the memory. 

There are many things in this life you’ve done wrong and still never regret, but that time, that man is one of them.

“So I decided it was best if it was just me and Finn after that. I take care of things for us.” You finish strong. 

You’re no one’s victim, neither is Finn. This world can be a cruel place for women and children, especially a whore and her bastard son as they like to call you. You’ve had to learn the hard way a time or two, but learn you did.

You come to an abrupt stop just yards short from the boys as Tommy’s pace halts without warning. 

He says nothing, but you feel the muscles of his shoulder tense beneath your cheek. Radiating down his arm as he clenches at your hand.

“An’ this man, he still live in Small Heath?” Tommy asks you.

Glancing up, you see his razor-sharp jaw flex as he pulls the cigarette from his lips and you know he hates your answer, hates the picture you just painted for him and probably wishes he never asked the question at all.

You squeeze his hand reassuringly. You didn’t tell him to upset him or get that man killed. You told him to be honest, like he was honest with you, because you trust him. That’s how you like things with Tommy… Honest even when it hurts.

“It’s alright, Tom. It’s in the past.” You say, giving his shoulder a little nuzzle of your cheek to ease the tension tight in his muscles.

Untangling from your arm, he turns into you with that driven determined Shelby stare of his.

“No one’s ever gonna touch you or Finn like that again.” Tommy says, in a voice you barely recognize. 

A voice so in command and certain, you wonder if that’s the sound a peaky blinder makes. The side of him that’s capable of killing and maiming a man with the toss of a coin. The side he doesn’t like you and the boys to see.

You stare into his eyes, seeing that raw determination that should intimidate any man. That side of him that is completely unhinged after the war and no longer bound by the rules of man. Especially when the ones he loves are threatened. 

And Tommy cares for you. This you know. You’re family in a way, especially since he’s been so alone. 

But sometimes, when he looks at you like he’s looking at you now. The weight of his stare making your heart begin to pound a little harder, your breath grow shorter… you wonder. Wonder, as you stare back into those endless seas of blue determination, if maybe, just maybe, he cares a little more than he should.

“Mummy look the horses are out! Come on Charlie!” Finn hollers with excitement, ripping your attention away from Tommy as a rush of air fills your lungs when you break away. 

You glance over just in time to see Finn take Charlie’s hand before the boys start running across the field, kicking up water and mud as they go, the mischief game of chasing birds long forgotten.

You follow the boys as they scamper over to the stables out along the back side of the manor, where the cobblestone meets the grass and tall old trees surround the property. 

An old brick building as rich a red as the manor, and large enough to house several families, but for Thomas Shelby it’s where the horses and carriage are kept.

With the sun shining high in the sky, the horse hand must have had the same idea about sunlight and fresh air as he tends to one of the stallions, brushing and feeding him as the boys stare on in wonder.

“You like the horses, eh Finn?” Tommy asks as you both approach, crooked grin curving at his mouth as he watches the boys mounting excitement.

“Yeah, I’m gonna learn to ride someday.” Finn answers back over his shoulder, reaching out to stroke the black stallion’s long mane.

“Why not today then?” Tommy asks with a tilt of his head.

“Can I?” Finn’s face shoots to you, the excitement barely contained in his wild blue eyes as he asks for permission.

Unable or willing to steal his thunder, you concede. 

“If it’s alright with Tommy.” You say, a smile breaking wide on your face with your little boy’s joy and excitement.

“Come on, lad.” Tommy beckons, hoisting Finn up onto the horse’s back.

“Me too, Dad!” Charlie comes calling yanking on the length of his father’s coat, just a step behind Finn.

Placing Charlie in front of Finn, Finn hooks a protective arm around the smaller boy as Tommy hands Finn the reigns. 

Taking the bridle of the horse, Tommy slowly leads the boys around the stables and out toward the pasture.

“Hold on tight now boys.” He orders along the ways as he escapes the shadow of the stables, sunlight beating down on his cap and coat.

You follow along, watching as Tommy takes the boys around the yard, moving at a slow and steady pace. Your two boys, with their rust mop tops and Irish completion, they could practically be brothers. 

The sound of Finn’s joy pierces through your heart as you gaze on at this perfect moment, your son’s smile stealing your breath away as you realize how truly lucky you are. 

This is all you ever wanted for Finn. A family. A home where he can learn and growing up safe. And a man. A man who would be kind to him. Teach him how to be an honorable kind man himself one day… 

You find your gaze falling onto Tommy, smile creeping up on his serious face as he watches the boys fall in love with the same beautiful beasts that captivate his heart. It touches your heart the way he is with Finn. Always kind, always patient, the way he is with Charlie. 

And you realize maybe Tommy isn’t the only one who cares a little too much.

It’s been creeping in slowly, like a nagging feeling at the edge of your mind, an inch you can’t quite reach. 

The desire to be near him, spend time with him, pull him closer. You couldn’t see it, didn’t want to, not after everything that’s happened before, everything you’ve lost. 

But it’s been building and shifting, transforming and changing, until this. Until this one singular, perfect moment as you watch Tommy with your son. Bein’ kind to him as he always is even though he doesn’t have to be… 

You finally see, you’re falling for Thomas Shelby. And you have no idea what to do with that.

* * *

The weather’s so fickle this time of year. One minute the sun is out and shining, five minutes later the clouds have gathered overhead once again and the rains coming down in thick heavy drops. 

Tommy gets the horse and children back in the stables before they’re drenched, but you still have to make it back to the main house. 

The big dark clouds overhead offer no mercy as Tommy clutches Charlie, while you grip Finn’s hand tight and you all dash across property, trying not to slip on the wet grass.

Finn’s still on a high and full of excitement by the time you make it inside the side door to the kitchen. 

You’re nearly soaked, clothing clinging heavily to your skin, a chill creeping into your bones as your feet slosh in your shoes, but the sun could still be shining for all the boys know.

“Did yeah see me mum! Did yeah see me! I was like a real rider!” Finn exclaims, his eyes wide with excitement and pride as they gaze up at you awaiting your approval.

  
“I did, an’ a fine rider indeed.” You tell him, giving his cheek a quick brush of affection before Finn proceeds to reenact the moment, pretending to ride an invisible horse around the kitchen. 

Charlie following suit as the boys gallop and stomp about the kitchen leaving water and muddy footprints everywhere in their wake. 

You know the maid’ll kill you for this mess, but you can’t bring yourself to mind as laughter spills from your lips with the sight of it. 

When the sound of a deep chuckle fills your ears, and you glance over your shoulder only to find it’s Tommy making that noise, you swear you’d take the maid’s wrath any day for a moment like this.

Tommy’s eyes catch yours and your laughter stops, but your smile grows.

“You’re a kind man, Tommy.” You say, thanking him for everything he’s done for your boy today and every day. 

Tommy’s always kind to Finn, generous and more than you ever hoped your boy would receive from a man who isn’t his father.

Tommy’s chuckle stops as he runs a hand along the back of his wet hair, shaking the water loose.

“She says that now, eh boys?” He retorts with a hint of sarcasm, a spark of mischief filling his eyes as they dart down to the boys still parading around the kitchen. But you know he means it, still uneasy under your praise.

But you won’t have him diminishing the weight of his generosity as you find yourself going to him. 

Tenderly you sweep away the wet hair that’s fallen into his eyes, wiping at the loose droplets that drip off his hair and run down along the side of his face before you wrap his face in your hands, drawing his gaze back up to your own. 

After everything Tommy’s done for you and your son. Given you a safe home to live in, warm beds, full bellies. A place where you can teach Finn, give him the kind of opportunities you always prayed he’d have.

“You’re a good an’ kind man, Tommy Shelby. You don’ fool me, only yerself.” You tell him, second guessing the boldness of your action only for a moment. 

A fearlessness that got you in trouble in the first place with men, but then you take in the look that fills Tommy’s eyes. 

A look that tells you he wants this, whatever it is, as you feel his hand find your face, blunt fingers sliding across your cheek to rest against his palm. 

You can’t move as Tommy slowly draws you near, his gaze holding you frozen in the moment.

Your belly clenches with the kind of desire you haven’t felt since your reckless youth as his forehead settles against your own. 

Tommy’s breath fans your lips, his mouth so close you swear you can feel the ghost of his lips brush your own. 

And that look in his eyes, you find yourself swimming in the deep oceans of it. 

You know what’s coming, the thought of it steals your breath, but it’s what you don’t hear that catches your attention. 

The sudden silence in the room is never a good sign when there’s little ones, it tells you the children are no longer stomping about, you can practically feel their curious little eyes staring on without ever looking their way. 

You don’t want to confuse them. You’re confused enough on your own.

“The children, Tommy…” You whisper, your lips brushing faintly against the fullness of his lips as you speak. 

Sparks shooting down your spine with the feel of it. But your protective heart holds steady against the heat sweeping through your veins. 

You can’t do this to Finn and Charlie, you can’t confuse them. 

The look that registers in Tommy’s eyes says he understands as he lets go of your face and you take a step back. 

You hold his gaze a moment longer, your breath deep and unsteady, unsure of what to think and what to say before you force yourself to snap out of it.

Turning back to find their little eyes focused upon you both, just as you suspected. Taking the moment in, even if they don’t understand it.

“Come on now children, let’s get you both dried off before you catch a cold.” You say, playfully shooing them out of the room where their little minds can’t linger any longer.


	5. In The Bleak Midwinter || Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “That’s not what they said. When I asked around ‘bout yeah. That’s not what they said.” Tommy’s words hit your back and your feet stop suddenly by the fireplace. Try as you might not to let your movements look abrupt or startled.
> 
> Your heart thumps a little faster. Honesty, that’s what you and Tommy have, but you aren’t that girl from before and you curse yourself for bringing her up at all.
> 
> “No?” You feigned ignorance as you turn back his way. 
> 
> “Maybe they had it wrong.” You say, reminding yourself that isn’t a lie, even though it doesn’t feel quite like the truth on your heart either as you meet his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter really starts the beginning of a difficult time for all the characters. Season four was a bitch. I also really tried to lay the seeds for things to come. So there are hints of things throughout this chapter. Hopefully that comes through. Hope you like Fiona and Tommy getting closer. Hell, hopefully you just like the update! 
> 
> As always Comments and Kudoes are greatly appreciated! And I want to say Thank You to everyone who commented or left Kudoes. You all are seriously the best!!!!

It’s the smell of pine and the promise of a drink that draws to into the room. Stack of presents in your arms, ready to be placed under the tree for little minds to wonder about and be tempted to shake. 

But your feet idyll as Tommy comes into view, slouched low in a chair, drink in one hand, smoke in another, staring off at a picture on his desk you know is Grace. 

For a second, only a moment, your heart aches just a little, before you swiftly dismiss the notion as Tommy glances over at you, rising from the chair as if he’s surprised to see you, surprised you caught him.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt. I finished wrapping the gifts” You explain, your gaze dodging his sheepishly as you move quickly for the tree. 

Unsure if tonight will be one of the rare nights you finish what you came to do and then turn in for the night, or whether Tommy will offer you a drink like he normally does. 

You haven’t talked about it, that almost kiss. It’s been over a week and he hasn’t said a word, so you haven’t brought it up either. 

He’s your family- with you and the boys, your friend, a trusted confidant, but also still your boss. That makes this a precarious situation you are none too eager to navigate. 

And he still loves his dead wife. Nearly two years later, the longing in his eyes was unmistakable. 

So you tell yourself, perhaps it was just a beautiful moment gone awry. Getting the better of the both of you.

“No, it’s fine.“ Tommy says, his voice deep and tired from another long day. 

Working himself beyond exhaustion so there’s little time for his mind to wander or dwell on the things he’s too stubborn to fix… You know all his little tricks by now.

“Drink?” He asks. He doesn’t ask what you’ll have. You’re long past such formalities and besides, he already knows.

It appears you’ll be staying after all, you think, as you offer a subtle nod his way. 

You arrange the presents just so underneath the jutting branches and rise on your feet, feeling your shirt drop back down around your ankles as you rise.

You linger by the tree, breathing in the smell of pine as your fingers stroke the short stiff needles. 

Big red ribbons drape the tree with bright white bulbs like a lady of the house all dressed up for a ball. 

You love Christmas. It always reminds you of years long past. Of being at home as a child. Your brothers carrying on and creating a ruckus through the house as your sister tried to chase you down to finish dressing you for the party. 

Even then she thought you were given far too many liberties and freedoms for a girl. 

The house smelling of your mother’s ginger snap cookies as she’d try to shoo your brothers away when they’d steal them off the cooling rack. Your father hollering on for everyone to quiet down as he attended to business, but with five children in the house, peace was hard to come by. 

And you, the youngest, would take the teasing and the prodding, always captivated by the energy that fluttered through the house with the holidays.

It’s the smell of him that tells you Tommy’s brought over your drink, not the clip of his steps, or the rhythm of his breath. 

He smells of tobacco, leather, and the kind of industrial smoke that billows in his factories. 

It’s harsh like his moods, but distinctly masculine and after living this long in his home, you find the smell of Tommy calms you. Makes you feel safe. Almost the way the smell of your father had when you were a small child.

Taking the drink from his waiting hand, you turn back to the Christmas tree, letting the memories wash over you. Understanding a little better that look in Tommy’s eyes as he gazed upon Grace’s picture.

“It’s always a little harder around the holidays, missing the little things, loved ones-“ An air of nostalgia lingers on your breath.

“An’ where ‘er your loved ones this time of year, Fiona?” Tommy asks, making conversation. 

Easy and smooth like the words you often share after the children have gone to bed and the manor’s grown quiet. Even though he’s never asked about your family before.

You glance over at Tommy from the corner of your eye, a playful smirk edging on your lips.

“I’m surrounded by them.” You tease him, even though it’s true and you’re starting to think he knows that.

Tommy meets your gaze, his lips pursing as he tries to restrain the smile curling at the corners of his mouth.

You catch sight of his hand running along his jaw out of your periphery as your turn back before he speaks again. 

“I meant your family.” He clarifies as if you didn’t know.

“Aww yes, my family.” You repeat sarcastically before talking a large sip of your drink and turning to face him, leaving the tree behind.

“You see Tommy, when you get pregnant at seventeen outside of wedlock from a boy who’s fallen somewhere in France and then refuse to give it up… Well, family has a way of turning its back on you. What with you bein’ a disgrace to the family name an’ all.” He knows this, parts of it, but not all of it.

Taking another tall sip of whiskey, you find your lips sharing a little more than perhaps you should.

“But my brothers always did like a good party. So surely, they’d be at some social event right now, and my sister- well she was always far too concerned with what other people thought. So I’d imagine she’s at home somewhere. No doubt with babies of her own by now.” You say, an air of distance on your breath as you let your mind truly think of them, all of them, for the first time in a very long time.

“I thought you just had the one brother?” Tommy asks, a shift in his voice you miss as you wander absently over toward the fire.

“You forget I’m Irish, Tommy. No reasonable Irish family only has two children. There were five of us in total and if my mum hadn’t passed surely there would have been more. Three brothers, one sister, I was the runt.” You share. 

Freddie, Frankie, Frannie, Finn, and Fee, you can still hear the melody of your mother’s voice as she’d call you all in for supper. 

Their faces flash through your mind like a distant memory, but only two linger, your closest brother and mum.

“That’s not what they said. When I asked around ‘bout yeah. That’s not what they said.” Tommy’s words hit your back and your feet stop suddenly by the fireplace. Try as you might not to let your movements look abrupt or startled.

Your heart thumps a little faster. Honesty, that’s what you and Tommy have, but you aren’t that girl from before and you curse yourself for bringing her up at all.

“No?” You feigned ignorance as you turn back his way. 

“Maybe they had it wrong.” You say, reminding yourself that isn’t a lie, even though it doesn’t feel quite like the truth on your heart either as you meet his eyes.

Those piercing blues, those hypnotizing pits that draw you in like a vortex, you and everyone else. You swear they see right through you. 

There’s a question hanging in his gaze, a narrowing around his eyes as he stares back at you. It makes a shiver run down your spine and leaves you desperate to make it stop.

“John’s having a party at his house for New year’s.” You say, quickly changing the subject. 

You watch the shift in his eyes. Talk of his brother getting his attention the way you knew it would.

A little huff leaves his chest, barely audible, but you hear it as he fishes out his cigarette case and plucks a smoke between his lips. 

He bows his head, drawing it to the lighter before, glancing back up at you once it’s sparked.

“John’s having a party at the big house, eh? Good for him.” He says, trying far too hard to sound as if he doesn’t care, but you see right through it. 

He’s so transparent to you. John reminds you the most of your brother. Of who he was before the war. 

But Tommy… He reminds you of the man who came back. They all came back different, changed. But the walls Tommy puts up, the way he isolates himself, it’s not foreign to you. You see right through him.

“Lizzie thinks it’d be a good idea if you took Charlie. Finn and I could come along too if that’d make it easier.” You suggest. 

You hate seeing him like this, like a ship lost out at sea without it’s harbor. He’s stubborn to a fault, and he thinks he doesn’t deserve them after the pain he’s caused them. 

He doesn’t say it, of course, but you hear it all the same. This has gone on long enough. Someone needs to make the first move.

“You an Lizzie workin against me now, eh?” Tommy almost laughs, almost, as his head shakes with the ridiculousness of the notion.

Downing the last of your drink, you set the glass down on the panel over the fireplace, amongst the garland draped across it and move for him.

“It’d be good for Charlie. He should know his family, Tommy.” You tell him, your voice growing more firm as his gaze evades you. 

Pulling at his cigarette, his gaze lingers up along the ceiling, head shaking slowly as if he made it clear he’ll have none of it.

But you’re not one to be so easily dismissed either and what your saying is important. 

Charlie may not be yours, but you love him like he is and his wellbeing is of your utmost importance. He already lost his mum. He should know his family. 

It’s a gift you wish you could give Finn. There’s little you could do to change that, but this you can do something about.

Snatching the cigarette from the space between Tommy’s fingers, you stub it out in the ashtray on the coffee table below and find you’ve won his full attention with the boldness of your move.

“Charlie misses his family and I know you miss them too.” You challenge him, looking him dead in the eye and daring him to deny it.

Tommy stares at you, not saying a word. His face impossible to read, but he doesn’t look away, and you could swear there’s something slowly revealing itself in his gaze as you take a chance and reach out for him. 

Running your thumb gently along the curve of his prominent cheekbone.

“It’s ok to miss them, Tom.” You speak softly, as if your words are a secret that should never be revealed in casual tones. 

Reminding him his heart is still beating in there. No matter how hard he tries to wall it out. 

Reminding him family was his strength and still is no matter how hard he tries to convince himself he doesn’t need them.

Your hand drops slowly from his face as Tommy holds your gaze. The power of his stare so intense you’re not sure if you’re remembering to regularly blink or breathe. You’ve never stared into each other’s eyes like this, not since…

“Think Charlie might not be the only one you’re good for, Fiona.” Tommy says slowly as if the truth of his words is still revealing itself to him.

A shuddered breath quivers off your lips as Tommy brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, taking you by surprise.

You can’t speak as you stare back into the endless pits of Tommy’s eyes, feeling his thumb run along you jaw as he slowly tilts it and leans into you, causing the breath to still on your lips.

Your eyes slip closed as your lips meet and hold, his kiss is gentle, lips soft and full. It sends your heart hammering in your chest on contact, you nearly feel lighthearted as you reach for Tommy to steady yourself. Your hands slipping along his waist, fisting at his vest.

Tommy kisses you slowly, cautiously, feeling out the moment, but as you return his kiss, you feel his fingers dig into your hair at the back of your head, clutching you closer to him before he begins to kiss you harder.

Your mind is a swirl of thoughts and uncertainties, all moving too fast for you to capture more than a fleeting recognition of. And when combined with the heat of Tommy’s breath and the swipe his tongue along the seam of your mouth, you know you’re done for.

Tommy tastes like whiskey and tobacco, complimenting the distinct scent of him that surrounds you. A smell that usually calms your nerves, but wrapped in Tommy’s arms, lost against the stroke of his lips and tongue, you feel anything but calm. 

You feel fucking alive. You let your hands settle around the back of his neck, running up the curve of it, feeling his cropped hair prick at your palm before your fingers lacing through the longer strands as Tommy’s grip falls to your waist, pulling you against him. 

His mouth slips too, down along your jaw then neck, nipping and kissing a trail against your skin. A path of destruction really, you haven’t been touched like this, kissed like this, with passion and desire, since before you had Finn. 

Your senses are on overload, your mind going haywire. And that mustard seed you’ve been trying to keep understand wraps, the one that holds all your forbidden and confusing feelings about Tommy Shelby, it’s just blossomed into something that feels nearly beyond your control under his undivided attention.

Your eyes shoot open, staring up at the carvings that line the ceiling as your mind quickly starts to scramble. 

What are you doing, it asks like an echo shouted down a quiet hollow hall. This is your boss. 

Yes, he’s more than that, but he is still that. You have no idea what he feels for you, not concretely. 

And you have so much to lose here. You and more importantly, Finn…

“Slow down, Tommy.” You breathe out, your voice far more ragged and uneven than you intended. 

You cup his face and draw it back to yours. His breath is heavy on your lips as you rest your head against his, seeking out those enchanting blue eyes that are as mesmerizing as they are dangerous.

“Last time things went this fast it didn’ fare so well for me. And we have Finn and Charlie to think about.” You whisper, trying to hold onto rationality, sensibility- things you wish you would have considered in your youth. 

But it’s hard, undeniably hard as Tommy’s lips linger just a breath away, brushing faintly against your own when his arms hold your body into the curve of his. 

No man has ever tempted you the way Tommy is right now, not since Finn’s father. He’s gotten under your skin, so slowly you didn’t feel him sinking in until it was too late. 

Making your heart weak and desirous to take ill-fated risks if it means just one more brush of his lips, another moment in his arms. 

Staring into those eyes, you feel yourself losing this battle as you give in and gently kissing him once more to kill the hunger burning its way through your veins. 

Your hand grips at his hair, the other curved around the base of his neck, not ready to let go of him.

“This isn’t like that.” Tommy’s husky breath fills the space between you, deep and gritty, enough to melt butter as you break the kiss.

But it’s his words that get to you. How is this predicament any different than the last? 

You know Tommy’s care about you. Perhaps more than he should, but how much more? You were youthful and naïve once and it cost you everything. 

You can’t do that again. You have a child now, he has to be your focus, and no man it worth sending a wrecking ball through the life he has here.

Placing your hands on his shoulders, you pull away from him, slipping from Tommy’s arms while you still have enough good sense. 

His eyes are full of confusion, his brow pinched as he stares across from you waiting to see why you pulled away.

“What do you want from me, Tommy? I need to know your intentions. I know your heart isn’t free, not completely, an’ I would never try an’ take that from you or judge it. Lord knows I understand, but I can’t cross this line if you’re gonna be somewhere else, thinking of someone else. I understand your loneliness, I do, but for reasons of my own, I can’t pretend.” You tell him truthfully. 

You can’t play games. You can’t have Tommy making you feel alive in a way you haven’t felt since before Finn was born. 

You can’t give him your heart and body, and worry if he’s thinking about Grace while you do. You can’t. There’s too much at stake.

“That’s not what-“ Tommy starts to explain, but there’s a knock at the door of the study.

“Mr. Shelby-“ Frances’ voice follows before it suddenly dies when she steps into the room. 

She looks at you both, but her eyes settle on you as your cheeks suddenly feel like they’re burning up. 

You’ve been in this room at this hour of the night countless times together, but you can see it in her eyes, she knows she’s walked in on something.

“What is it Frances?” Tommy presses as he turns from you toward the door, the impatience in his deep voice only amplifying the unspoken tension in the room.

Her gaze pulls quickly from yours to Tommy as she stammers for a brief moment.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Shelby. I didn’t- I didn’t mean to interrupt. But the chef keeps asking how many for dinner on Christmas. He’s new and foreign, and he gets easily upset.” She tries to explain, suddenly sounding more flustered than even you feel.

With matters to attend to and enough playing with fire for one night, you take this as your cue and move for the door. 

Stopping beside Tommy, you place your hand upon his arm briefly, garnering his attention, offering him a simple smile when he looks your way. 

Trying not to arouse anymore suspicion than what has already been stirred up, but to let him know there’s no bad blood.

“I should leave you to it.” You say, before moving for the door, but Tommy catches your hand as it falls away, trying to draw you back toward him before you can get away.

“Fiona,” Tommy calls, your eyes meet Frances’ briefly, surely- now more than ever she believes something it going on between you and Thomas.

Turning back, you meet his eyes, seeing the way they reach out for you. 

Suddenly you’re not sure you give a damn what anyone else thinks as you squeeze his hand and offer him the reassuring smile.

“Enjoy tellin’ her ‘bout Johnny Dog’s tribe. I’ll see you in the morning. Good night, Mr. Shelby.”

 

It wakes you up in the dead of night. Your eyes shoot open as the sound ripples and settles beneath your skin, chilling you to the bone. 

Your heart begins to pound before you’re even fully awake. Some sounds you never forget. No matter how long it’s been since you’ve heard them. 

The sound of a gunshot echoing through the halls of a hollow manor, the place where your children lie asleep in their beds, that’s a sound every protective instinct inside you would recognize anywhere.

You rise quickly in the bed, turning to the space beside you, you breathe a sigh of relief Finn is still sound asleep.

Gently slipping from the blankets as not to wake your son, you snatch your sweater off the chair beside your bed and move quickly for the bureau. 

The doors creaks as your slowly pull them open. Glancing over your shoulder to ensure the squeal hasn’t awaken Finn, your hands reach for the top shelf and search blindly along the back wall of it. 

Your hands steady and still as your feel it - cool steel.

Gripping it tight, you pull the gun from the back of the shelf and draw it to both your hands. 

Your pulse is racing, you can feel it humming through your veins as your hands tremble lightly.

Blowing out a steady breath to calm your nerves, you remember what your brother taught you. Pulling the clip from the bottom, you make sure it’s still fully loaded. 

Finding it just as it was when Tommy gave it to you all that time ago, you push the clip back into place and turn for the door. 

Stealing one last glance at your sleeping son, you say a silent prayer for protection and slip out of the bedroom door as quietly as you can. 

Fishing the key from your sweater pocket, you lock Finn inside and move for Charlie’s room.

Your bare feet move as lightly and quietly as you can against the cold hardwood floor. The night before Christmas the long halls and large rooms fill with frigid air if they aren’t warmed by a fire. Your breath echoes around your like the house itself is breathing.

Reaching Charlie’s room, you pull back the chamber of the gun to load it. Holding the steel at your side, you slip quietly into the little boy’s room. You say a silent prayer of gratitude when you find the room empty besides Charlie. 

Tip-toeing over to his bed, you make sure he’s still breathing and sound asleep. Staring down at the little boy you love as your own, you realize you can’t leave him here. 

You don’t have a key to lock him in and keep others out. What if they come for Tommy’s son next, like they did before? You couldn’t bare even the thought, so putting the gun in your sweater pocket, gentle as you can, you lift Charlie off the bed and into your arms.

He stirs in your arms as his head snuggles against your shoulder, his little arms wrapping around your neck.

“Mummy,” He calls out quietly, the way he still does sometimes.

You hold him against you, scooped in one arm as you softly rub his back with the other.

“Shhhh, it’s Miss Fiona. Everything’s alright. Go back to sleep, sweet boy.” You whisper, giving his rusty locks a little kiss. 

You move quick with the ease that comes from years of carrying a little one in your arms. 

Making it back to your room, you place him gently beside Finn on your side of the bed. Waiting steadily by the edge a few moments until you’re sure both boys are fast asleep, before creeping back for the door. 

You fish your keys out and with a heavy heart, lock it. You hate the idea of trapping your boys in a room, but it’s the safest you can keep them as you move to investigate further. 

You need to know your boys are as safe as they can be before you go in search of Tommy.

You try not to let it frighten you more that Tommy hasn’t come for you or the children, that you can’t hear him moving about the house like you’d expect if there was gunfire. 

You stay close along the tall mahogany walls as you make your way to Tommy’s room. Trying to stay in the shadows as your heart thumps wildly in your chest. 

His door is shut and you find yourself praying once again there isn’t something horrible waiting for you on the other side of that door. 

Raising the gun close to your chest with one hand, you slowly turn the knob to Tommy’s room. 

Sucking in one last breath for courage, you give the door a gentle push open as both hands take hold of the gun, outstretched and aimed for anything that gets in your way as you move inside.

But there’s nothing. The room is empty and doesn’t look like it’s even been touched all night. 

Your heart sinks with dread, your stomach tightening with knots that make it hard to breath as you refuse to think over what this means. 

You refuse to let the worst case scenario linger in your mind.

Leaving Tommy’s room, you move for the stairs. Chest rising and falling rapidly as you move as silently as you can down the steps. 

Heart pounding wildly in your ears. You’re absolutely terrified of what waits you down these steps – Men ready to kill, Tommy’s dead body lying sprawled out in a pool of his own blood, waiting to gun you down next? 

But none of those fears deters you. The boys, Tommy, they’re your family. All you have in this world and you’d walk through the fiery pits of hell to protect your family without hesitation. 

Because after having your family throw you to the streets, burying your brother, and raisin’ a child alone in Birmingham, you’ve learned only the strong survive. If fear was going to hold you back it would have killed you long ago. 

So steadily your steps continue.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, you swallow hard against the lump tightening in your throat and cross yourself the way years of catholic school engrained in you. 

You force yourself to blow out a slow steady breath to calm your nerves as you hold the gun out in front of you and slowly move along the walls. 

There’s a sound, a movement. 

You swing the gun around and find Frances shaking against a wall, startled by the sight of you and the firearm in your hand.

You lower the gun quickly. “Tommy?” You ask, your voice barely a whisper.

Frances shakes her head nervously from side to side, but shares what little she knows. “It came from the kitchen.”

You nod with understanding, trying to appear more sure of yourself than you are. You move quickly across the room to her and back hidden in the shadows.

“The children are asleep in my room. The door is locked. I want you to go up there, grab a lamp, a vase- I don’t care, find something to defend yourself and keep guard.” You instruct her, your voice far more confident than the panic racing through your veins.

She looks back at you with blinding fear in her eyes. She’s just a maid, but you need her.

“They’re just children, Frances.” You plead, you’re voice begging for her mercy.

And that’s all she needs, you watch the realization wash over her face, watch a resolute take hold before she straightens up and nods.

“Nothin’ will happen to ‘em.” She swears, her breath stronger than the fear you saw gleaming in her eyes a moment ago.

You force a smile at her with thanks before she moves for the stairs, creeping along the shadows as you move for the kitchen.

You round the corner for the hall to the kitchen. In the distance you can see light peeking out from beneath the kitchen door. 

Gripping the gun tighter in your hand, you feel your stomach muscles clench as you harden your heart the way you did that night those men came for your brother. 

Preparing your mind and heart to do whatever it takes, no hesitation. You take a step closer, but you don’t get far as a pair of arms suddenly wrap around you from behind.

Your heart shoots into your throat as a man grips you tight. Every survival instinct inside you shoots to life. 

Your hands loosen on the gun, but one still manages to keep a grip on it as the other sends a sharp elbow into the ribs of the man behind you.

You hear him groan in pain before you quickly send another, feeling his grip on you loosen against your assault. 

You hear his voice fill your ears, but the panic racing through your veins makes his words meaningless as he shoves you against the wall, spinning you around to face him.

Only then do you understand as piercing blue eyes you’d recognize anywhere stare back at you in the dim light. 

And suddenly you understand what he’s saying as he grips your arms firmly against the wall.

“It’s me, Fiona. It’s me.”

A ragged breath vibrates off your lips as terror rapidly slips from your veins, but as you take the sight of him in you choke on the next breath. 

He’s covered in blood. Splattered all over his face and neck, thick dark pierces in his hair, smeared and saturated against the stark white of his shirt, his hands painted red.

Shaking loose of his grip, you shove the gun in your pocket and reach for him. Your trembling hands running frantically along the sides of his face, slipping down his neck and on his chest, trying to find out where all this blood is coming from.

“Fuck Tommy, where’s it coming from? Where are you hurt?” You question him desperately, tears filling your eyes as you rip open the top buttons of his shirt to check the skin beneath as your heart pounds wildly out of control with worry.

You feel Tommy grip your face tight as he forces your gaze back up to his.

“I’m fine. It’s not mine… It’s not mine.” He tells you slowly, deeply, trying to draw you back from the grips of panic that are taking you over.

You grip at his blood-stained cheek, a sad smile creeping on your face as you let out a shaky breath. 

Your heart warring against itself, battling against the sense of relief you feel knowing this blood belongs to someone else and not him.

Tommy’s gaze drops to your side as his hand taps the pocket of your sweat with the gun in it before his gaze returns to yours.

“Good girl,” He says, his thumb sweeping against your cheek.

“Listen to me carefully, go wash up. Then I need you to pack a few bags for you and the boys. We’re leaving and I don’t know when we’re comin’ back.” His breath is so serious, the look in his eyes unquestionable as he grips tightly at your face.

“What’s going on, Tommy?” You ask, panic filling your voice. 

You need to know. Standing before him, covered in blood. A man dead somewhere in the home your boys sleep in, where you’re supposed to be safe. You need to know.

“Tommy-“ A voice calls quick, the kitchen door swinging open, filling the hall with piercing light.

Your nerves still shot, you react on instinct, grabbing the gun from your pocket, you rip free of Tommy’s grasp and swing it up, aiming it squarely on the voice in seconds.

Luckily Tommy’s instincts are even better than yours as he shoves the barrel of gun and your arms back down toward the floor before you can get off a shot. Johnny dogs fills your vision as your eyes adjust to the change in light.

He curses from the doorway, in Romani you assume because you can’t make out a word he’s said, but don’t need a translator to understand the scare you just gave him.

“Fuck Fiona, remind me never to cross yeah.” He says on an uneasy breath, everyone on edge, but you can tell he’s trying to be make light of it.

“Sorry Johnny,” You exhale heavily, your heart pounding as you try to calm yourself.

“She’s perfect for yeah Tom, act first, questions later.” He says, smirking to himself in amusement as he takes a pull from this cigarette.

Tommy pretends not to hear Johnny’s remark as he turns back to you.

“I’ll tell you everything, but for right now I need yeah to trust me, alright?” His eyes unblinking, his breath heavy, pressing the weight of his request deep into your chest.

Reluctantly you agree, you’ll insist upon answers later, but standing in the hallway, while he’s covered in blood and has surely managed to get it all over you as well, forcing the issue doesn’t seem like the right time.

Nodding, he leaves you in the hall, heading back over to Johnny as you move quickly for the stairs to handle your end of the business.

When you see Tommy again he meets you in your room. He’s cleaned the blood off of himself and changed his cloths, no sign of the carnage that just took place. 

Scooping his son into his arms as you hoist Finn on your hip, both boys groggy and barely awake. You both take a bag as Tommy leads you all out of the manor and into the waiting car.

You settle the boys in the backseat, bags and presents on the floor. So much for Christmas, you think.

You don’t ask, but Tommy seems to sense the question hanging in your eyes as you settle in your seat.

“We’re safe for now. I’ll tell you everything, but first I got to sort a few things out is all.” He vaguely explains.

It’s only as Tommy starts her up, his hand coming to rest on the stick shift do you see it. Blood on his hand and under his nails as you draw his hand to your lap, running your fingers over it.

“There’s still blood on your hands, Tom.” You tell him, trying to hold back the concern in your voice. Trying to stay as calm as he appears and not as rattled as you feel

You feel him squeeze your hand with reassurance.

“There always is, Fee. Just sometimes you can see it more than others.” He tells you simply, the words settling deep in the pit of your stomach with unease.

“Where are we going?” You inquire, changing the subject and hopefully the flutter of thoughts in your mind.

“Back to Birmingham…” Tommy says, as the car disappears in the darkness.


	6. In The Bleak Midwinter || Part 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is based around the opening scene in 4.02, Tommy naked by the window, in the tub. This could definitely be a hard chapter to read. And I really tired to capture the gravity of the situation both between Fiona and Tommy, but also John. So I hope that comes through. This chapter is far beyond my comfort zone. I’m not comfortable writing adult content and I’m definitely not confident about it. That’s part of the reason I’m really trying to push myself as a write with this chapter.
> 
> As always feedback is greatly appreciated. I want to give a special shout out to IrelandForever, who is always so supportive and I am eternally grateful! Thank you!

You arrive back in Small Health early in the morning, when the smoke from the factories and chimneys mixes with the fog coming off the canals and leaves the smoke laced air heavy like dew in your lungs. It sticks to your clothes and your skin like dirt that’s hard to wash off. 

Everything’s painted dark like soot, not even the morning rays can soften as the sky looms a hazy shade of greyish yellow. Whistles blow all around you for the factories as a horse and cart trot on by. 

You half expect a drunken man to stumble past you, trying to beat the rising sun, but no one dares come near you this time, not with Tommy Shelby by your side. 

You never imagined coming back here to stay. You’ll never miss this place.

You barely make it back to Small Heath before word reaches you of the tragedy that’s unfolded. 

It’s chaos, Arthur is nearly inconsolable when he arrives to tell Tommy. Even with Linda by his side, his words slip out past a choked breath, eyes heavy with tears, face crinkled with lines. 

Tommy’s composed even in the eye of the storm, as Ada trembles, biting at her lip to hold back tears, while Linda asks a flurry of questions no one bothers to answer. 

Tommy doesn’t blink - he commands. Barking orders, and suddenly you’re all headed to the hospital, even you and the children, because he doesn’t want to leave you alone and there isn’t time to round up men, he needs them to guard Michael.

But you see it, as you ride off to the hospital, the boys tired weary eyes staring back at you from the backseat, exhausted from the long night and confused over why everyone is crying. 

You see it as you glance over at Tommy in the driver’s seat, his knuckles white as they grip at the steering wheel, gaze focused, eyes barely blinking… Everyone’s heart is broken.

The news is only confirmed at the hospital - John is dead, Michael gravely wounded.

Polly is like a winter storm blowing in heavy from the east. She hollers and cries, you hear her voice billowing out from the hallway, past the swinging blues door where Tommy told you to stay and wait with the children.

“What are you doing here?” Linda asks as the storm rages on around you.

Her question ripping your attention away from the wails echoing out from the long white hall. You turn to her, taking in the pale color of her skin, more pale than you ever remember.

“I don’t know.” You answer honestly with a quick sigh. Your gaze drifting down to the multicolored tiled floor where the boys play with a handful of tinker toys you managed to grab before you left for the hospital. Playing quietly, but not blind to the pain unfolding around them. 

You suddenly, don’t know how you’re going to break to them Christmas isn’t coming today, or that John is gone.

“I don’t know…” You numbly repeat, your gaze returning to that long white hall.

You console Polly the best you can like Tommy asked. Rubbing your hands up and down along her arms as you listen to the flurry of words and demands she makes, that Michael will be alright, he’ll be ok. 

You don’t know what to say, you don’t know anything in that moment, but you are a mother and that alone stirs an empathy deep from within you. You can’t imagine what you’d do if something ever happened to Finn.

“He’s strong Polly. Strong like you. He’s gonna pull through.” You assure her, giving her arms a strong squeeze as she finally meets your eyes. 

You’ll always feel a connection to this woman, this fearless strong woman who saved your life and your son’s with her generosity, but looking at her now you hardly recognize her.

She looks at you, her son’s blood smear on her nice fir lined coat, beautiful in her cloche hat and ringlet curl as she stares at you with eyes swollen from too many tears, her pupil wild and unhinged as she meets your gaze.

“If he- If he-“ Her voice starts to waiver and crack, the sound of it alone shatters your heart more deeply than it’s already broken.

You pull her desperately into your arms, clutching her close. “He won’t.” You swear it. “He won’t.”

You’ve lost track of time and space until you see Esme come charging in, her heels clicking heavily against the tile with her quick step. 

Her dark eyes look frantic even from a distance, her hair half pinned, the other hanging loose and frayed about her face like a bird’s nest, her husband’s blood still smeared across her hands and cheek. 

You notice she has only half of the brood with her today as you rise from the bench on her approach. 

You barely know the woman. Only met her a time or two briefly, but you want to say something, feel you should say something, but the words never form on your tongue as she leaves the children at your side, next to Charlie and slips past you as if you weren’t there at all.

It’s only when she returns sometime later to fetch the children that you find your tongue.

“Esme,” You breathe heavily off your lips.

She meets your gaze, haunting brown eyes, make-up smeared down beneath her lashes. The grief and emptiness in her eyes steals your breath as your head shakes slowly.

“I’m so sorry.” You manage to say.

Motioning for the kids to rise she looks you dead in the eye, her gaze sharp and unyielding.

“This family’s cursed. ‘Specially Tommy. If yer smart, you’ll take yer boy an’ run as far away from here as yeah can.” She warns you, like a fortune teller revealing your terrible fate. 

Then she turns from you, scooping up little ones as she motions the others along. Before she’s gone, like a mirage disappearing on the horizon.

A part of you wonders if you should go, but you know in your heart you can’t leave him.

Your there all day it feels like, people coming and going past those swinging doors as you do your best to keep the boys preoccupied. 

Your own nerves rattled and shot as your heart hangs heavy in your chest, trying to wrap your mind around a tragedy that’s too big to grasp.

You don’t know what time it is when Tommy returns. Your back stiff, butt numb from sitting on that wooden bench for too long. 

It’s his eyes that catch you first on approach. Those eyes of his, deeper than any you’ve ever known, they stare at you more hollow than you’ve ever seen, blinding against the stark white hall he descends from. His face a tapestry of sharp edges and shadows.

You rise quickly from the bench to meet him. Smoothing out the wrinkles on your skirt as you rise.

You can’t stop yourself as you go to him, your hand finding his cheek, touching the sharp bone softly as those hollow eyes shallow you up on sight.

“Tommy,” You call softly to him with concern, your heart breaking all over again with the sight him, the unspoken pain radiating from his eyes.

Taking your hand, he pulls it from his face, but clutches it tight.

“Let’s go.” He says simply, his voice raspy like a strained whisper. 

No explanations, no details, and you accept that, given the circumstance, he owes you nothing right now, as you round up the boys and leave as quickly as you came.

You pull together dinner, if you could call it that - Christmas is ruined, a dark cloud over a treasured day. A permanent stain today will always be remembered by.

“What about Christmas mum?” Finn asks over supper, picking at the sandwiches Linda so generously brought over for the children. His big green eyes staring at you from across the table like a deer caught in the crosshairs.

Little ones eager for presents, Charlie’s quick to chime in, his big worried eyes scanning between Tommy and yourself. “Did Santa forget us?”

Your eyes fall to Tommy beside you at the table, but his lips are mute, gaze strained and miles away as he pulls heavily at his cigarette. Swiftly downing the rest of the whiskey in his glass, before rising unceremoniously from the chair to pour himself another.

Your heart is unbearably heavy as you look back at your boys. Their big eyes awaiting your answer. You haven’t told them about uncle John yet. You’ve been waiting for Tommy to take the lead, but you can see it in his eyes, he isn’t ready to say the words aloud.

With a sad smile and heavy tired eyes, you try your best. 

“Santa didn’t forget you, my loves. Something came up is all. He’ll be here tomorrow. Tomorrow we’ll celebrate Christmas. Now finish up your supper now.”

Making what little promises you can to ease their worried minds. You can see in their big tender eyes, it’s more than the absence of Christmas. 

It’s the sadness in the eyes of everyone around them. The pain hanging heavy in the room. They’re in need of comfort, reassurance and you give it the best you can.

It’s only after supper, after you’ve sipped away at far too much of Tommy’s open bottle of whiskey that the weight and truth of today find you. 

Bringing plates to the sink it hits you like a blow to your gut… John’s gone. Died on his own doorstep, in his wife’s arms on Christmas morning. 

Tears burn heavy in your eyes, but you don’t understand. The loss is great – yes. The magnitude of this tragedy unbearable, but you barely knew him. 

That’s when it hits you - he was like Finn to you in your mind and heart. And with his loss comes an old familiar festering pain of your own.

You brace your hands heavily against the sink to steady yourself as a sharp gasp leaves your lips. Shuttering and quaking up your chest as your throat tightens and tears you can no longer hold in begin to spill free.

“Yeah alright, mum?” You hear Finn call with concern from the table behind you.

You hear a chair slide against the wooden floorboards and heavy steps move your way as a wave of tears and grief wash over you.

“She’s alright, Finn. Take Charlie and go upstairs, get ready for bed. Behave an’ you both can open a present before bed.” Tommy’s voice fills your ears. 

So close, and radiating, you practically feel it blowing against your hair before it’s masked by the sound of little feet dashing and scurrying across the floors, pounding up the stairs.

“Come ‘ere, come ‘ere.” Tommy commands on a low whisper as you feel his arms wrap around your shoulders and pull you to him.

You bury your face against his chest, his strong arms winding securely around you, pulling you to him as a sob quakes and rattles its way up your chest and past your lips.

You never got to mourn your brother, not properly. You had a small child to care for, to keep alive. Finn was barely four and you were suddenly on your own. 

One of your brother’s old war comrades took you in, let you stay with his family while you figured things out, but there was no mistaking it, you were alone in the world. 

You and Finn against the savagery and brutality that canvased the streets of Small Health. You had to survive and for that reason, you buried your brother and moved on. But some losses never leave you…

It wasn’t until this moment, reminded of his death in the face of John’s, the loss of your brother mixing with the tragedy of John’s death, finally you broke. 

Your hands clutch and fist at Tommy’s shirt as he holds you close, his lips pressed against the crown of your head, his voice a deep husky whisper against your hair.

“It’s alright, Fee. It’s alright.” He whispers.

It’s then you feel heavy with guilt, Tommy has lost his brother and here you are, the one in tears. Pulling back from his embrace, you wipe the tears quickly from your eyes.

Pulling yourself together, you make yourself strong like you’ve had to so many times before. 

Rising on your toes to reach for him, you look into Tommy’s sad eyes as you slip your arms behind his neck and pull him into a tight hug.

The pain was undeniable in his eyes and surely compounded by all the things he’ll never get to say to John, the amends he never got to make.

“I’m so sorry Tommy. I’m so sorry.” You whisper softly against his ear, holding him close as you feel him slowly give in, slowly bury his face against your neck.

“I know how much you loved John.”

You can hear his breath grow heavy as strongly as you can feel it vibrating off against your neck. You feel his arms clutch you tighter at your waist, his hand running slowly up your spine as he draws your body flush against him.

Your skin heats up, your breath quickens with the closeness. The heat of his body seeping past his cloths and into yours from such close range.

“It’s ok,” You whisper, your words barely audible they’re so faint as you stroke the back of his head, hair pricking at your palm as you feel Tommy’s heavy breath waver against your neck, his muscles tighten around you.

But just as quickly as you have him, he’s pulling away like smoke in the wind. You see tears shine in his eyes before he quickly pinches at them to cast them away. Composing himself, killing his feelings like no one does better.

“I’ll get the presents.” He says vaguely, clearing his throat, finding any excuse to escape this moment as he slips from your side and leaves the room. 

It breaks your heart, but as you know all too well, there’s no cure for grief and you accept he simply isn’t ready.

“Present! Present!” You hear echoing down the stairs to the rhythm of little feet trotting down old wooden steps.

You turn toward the boys as they reappear, anxiously awaiting their prize with barely contained excited. The sight of them draws the first smile on your face for the day. 

Seeing that light in their eyes nothing can extinguish, watching in amusement as they fidget and squirm barely able to contain themselves. At least there’s this, this beauty not even the horrors of today can steal from Christmas.

You’re drunk, plain and simple. You lost track of how many swings you took from Tommy’s bottle and you can’t recall if you’ve eaten anything today, but at least you had enough sense to put the children to bed. 

Careful not to wake them as you picked them up one by one off the floor where they tuckered out after all the chaos at the hospital and playing with their new toy. 

Takin’ them upstairs, you placed them together in the bed meant for you and Finn. Figurin’ they’d feel safer together tonight, before going in search of Tommy. You lost sight of him after the boys opened their present, but you let him be, figuring he needed a little time and space.

You find him in the room he told you use to be his when you all arrived early in the morning. He’s standing by the window, tall and commanding, gazing out into the darkness beyond.

He turns around with the sound of you. Your eyes meet as you wrap your arms around yourself.

“The boys are tucked in bed in the next room.” You tell him quietly.

He nods with understanding. “And you?”

“Thought yeah might like some company.” You say, with a light shrug, suddenly not as confident about comin’ in here after him, but you had felt in your heart, still do, he shouldn’t be alone right now. Not after today.

Tommy turns from the window, staring at you with eyes as deep and hollow as the day’s events.

“I was ‘bout to wash up. Care to join me?” He says, his face serious as a stone as if what he’s just asked you isn’t utterly salacious.

The whiskey makes you snort when you laugh in response, your eyes surveying the room and finally noticing the copper washtub by the fireplace, steam rising off it.

“No,” You answer, smile tugging on your lips. Barely the second smile you’ve had all day.

But Tommy doesn’t laugh with you, instead he takes a step toward you.

“Join me.” He says again, his breath far too calm for a man with a request of this magnitude. 

His eyes reaching for you, practically sinking tethers into your belly and pulling you to him.

Tommy’s been drinking. He’s probably had twice what you have, but he still looks more sober on his feet than you. But you’re not fooled, you know you’re both drunk.

“No,” You tell him more firmly this time, your voice quiet, your head shaking slowly from side to side.

“Could wash the blood off.” He tells you as he takes another steady step toward you. Your face scrunches in confusion, and Tommy elaborates. “Your hands and hair.”

Looking down, you finally see it, dried underneath your nails. You grab at your hair, finding a few dry matted patches. 

You hadn’t even noticed. You never touched John or Michael, never saw them. You must have gotten it from Polly when you were trying to comfort her or the night before when you found Tommy covered in blood. 

You haven’t gotten a moments peace until now in the last twenty-four hours. After years of quiet, it feels like the whole world is coming at you full speed.

“I’ve seen plenty of naked women, Fiona.” Tommy tells you, his voice suddenly so close as you look up and find him standing right before you. 

His words might have wounded you if you were together, but you’re not, so you don’t let them. 

You understand he’s not trying to hurt you, he’s trying to disarm you, and you meet him with a challenge of your own.

“That may be, but you’ve never seen me naked.” You answer back, meeting his eyes with a challenge of your own.

An amused light touches Tommy’s eyes with your response, sends a smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth. 

But then he’s moving into your personal space, leaning in closer to your face, his voice as intoxicating as the drink burning through your veins.

“Then I’ll close my eyes while you undress and climb in the tub. Just bring yer knees up. I won’t see a thing, love.” He whispers to you, his husky breath warm against your cheeks, winding you up in a way only Tommy can.

Your heart starts to pound, your mind grows fuzzy under the power of his proximity, his smell and the coaxing sound of his voice, as you try desperately to hang onto your last shred of decency.

With eyes closed, afraid to meet his gaze, you shake your head no.

“No Tommy.” You whisper back, hanging by a thread, trying to stay strong.

Then you feel his head fall to yours, pressing lightly. His hand cups your jaw, his thumb brushing against your cheek, as his breath fans against your lips.

“I need yeah, Fee.” His breath is heavy and aching at the end. 

The first real sound you’ve heard him make all night. It reminds you of everything he’s lost today, everything he went through. 

His little brother gunned down on his doorstep on Christmas morning. His cousin in the hospital with an uncertain fate.

And despite every rational reason inside you, you find yourself slowly nodding in agreement, surrendering.

Tommy keeps his word. His eyes stay closed as you nervously strip off your dress and stockings, slipping quickly into the washtub. 

The water is hot, instantly calming and soothing all your tired achy muscles from a day that felt like it went on forever. 

Sinking under the water, you try to rinse any lingering blood and sweat from your hair and face before you come back up and push your back against the washtub. 

Pulling your hair over your shoulders, you draw your knees up tight to your chest and give him the word. 

You shut your eyes as Tommy undresses, even though he never says you have to. Heart pounding hard in your chest, you draw your lower lip nervously between your teeth. 

Your nerves are on edge in anticipation as you feel the water shift around you and listen as Tommy slides in across from you.

You feel his toes brush at yours, the slightest tease of skin to skin. This washtub wasn’t made for two, not like this. 

You hear your breath coming out quick and you find you’re not ready to open your eyes, as you start to second guess your decision. You’ve never bathed with a man before, it’s been years since you were even naked with one.

But then you feel Tommy’s hand brush yours at the edge of washtub, rubbing gently over the back of your hand.

“Relax Fiona. It’s only a bath.” Tommy coaxes you gently, like a horse that’s gone spooked.

Slowly you open your eyes and Tommy fills your vision. It’s only reassurance you see in his piercing blue eyes. 

Releasing your hand, he leans back against the end of the washtub, the back of his head resting on the rounded lip of it as he draws a cigarette to his lips and his eyes fall closed. 

He has far more room than you, but he’s larger, and yet, he still feels so close.

You try to distract yourself from the intimacy of this position. Far more intimate than any you’ve shared with a man in years. 

His tattoo’s catch your eye. You wanna ask Tommy about the ones on his chest and arms. You wonder what they mean, but you’re afraid you shouldn’t be starin’. 

Even though given the current situation that’s a little hard. His body tempts the resolve of your gaze. You can’t help but drink him in. Lean, but strong. His muscles defined, but not intimidated. 

Tommy’s strong, looking at him completely exposed you know he could take you, pin you to a wall or any other surfaces he pleased, but not break you, like some of the men who come out of the factories. Men you fear would snap you like a twig, but not Tommy, he’s cut in all the right places. Places you wish your wandering mind wouldn’t notice so keenly…

“Escaped the fuckin Prussian calvary-“ Tommy speaks up suddenly, catching your attention.

“Got ‘im out of the fuckin trenches, got ‘im home safe in one piece. An’ he dies on his own fuckin doorstep, ‘cause I needed Vincenzo Changrette to pay.” Tommy says low on his breath, words barely audible as he pinches tightly at the bridge of his nose before taking another long pull of his cigarette.

Tommy’s confession absolutely breaks your heart. Admitting what you already presumed, he blames himself for what happened to John. But you see now it’s more than that. 

You remember the story he told you in what feels like life time’s ago now, of the bleak midwinter. You remember Tommy shared he was a superior officer. He did everything he could to get his men and brothers home, get his little brother back safe. 

And for what? So he could be gunned down Christmas morning in front of his wife. The circumstances of it all is unbearable. But there’s no way Tommy could have known it would go down like that and knowing he holds himself responsible pierces through your heart.

“Tommy,” You call, voice breaking with concern as you reach for his hand. 

He squeezes it lightly in return, but never lifts his head off the rim of the tub, never looks your way.

“The water feels good, eh?” Tommy asks, changing the subject, his breath rolling off in a way that tells you that conversation is done and he won’t be speaking of it again.

“It’s nice.” You agree, releasing his hand and respecting his wishes even if they break your heart. 

You relax enough to rest your cheek on your arm as it sits along the rim of the washtub. While your other hand skims along the top of the water, the steam rises up around you, clearing out your senses and slowly lulling your mind. 

Mixing with the whiskey heavy in your blood, leaving you relaxed and subdued as you listen to the crackle of the fire at your back, it’s warmth radiating against your bare skin.

You lose track of time, it all begins to slip away, the horrors of the day, the pain in your heart. 

But even in the haze you sense it. Feel his eyes on you before you slowly raise yours to meet his gaze. Those powerful deep blue eyes waiting, ready to capture you. 

Tommy’s looking at you in that way of his, like no one else can. Like you’re the only person in the world. Making you belly coil and senses come alive. He’s so handsome it terrifies you. 

With those deep-set eyes, made ever darker by the rise of his cheekbones, the sharp edge of his jaw, and those lips your tongue still desires to drag against, your teeth to nip at.

After Finn’s father you set feelings of love and desire aside. There’s no room for them in a game of survival. No one, but him has tempted your resolve. No one, but Tommy has made that side of you come back to life. 

His eyes hold you steady and you find yourself sitting in silence, staring into the soul of a tortured man bound to linger among the living long after he’s stopped giving a damn about life and death. A man you’ve so foolishly let yourself fall for. And sometimes you swear he knows it too.

The way he looks at you, it makes your belly flutter, your heart beat faster, and suddenly you’re seventeen again and you know you’re in way over your head, about to do something you can never take back.

Sitting up out of the water, Tommy takes your hand from the rim of the washtub and gently pulls you toward him.

“Come ‘ere.” He whispers, his voice deep and husky, like something from down below come to pull you under.

“No,” You whisper back with a slow shake of your head. Trying to hold on to your good sense.

But Tommy is relentless and he knows you’re weak to him. He knows you want to, he always knows. 

Leaning in closer to you, Tommy tugs you far enough into the middle of the tub for his other hand to slip through your wet hair and pull you close. 

Stripping the breath from your lips as he steals a kiss. Soft and slow, his mouth melting into yours in a way you could swear reveals he’s weak for you too, before he slowly leans back just enough.

“What’d yea say, Fiona?” He tempts, his breath a husky whisper that sends shivers down your spine.

Your eyes open and meet his dark determined pair and you know you’ve lost this battle. You lost it the moment you climbed into this tub. 

You want to fight, but what’s the point? He already has you. He already knows your weakness. 

And looking into his blue eyes, you think you might know his too. 

The heat, and the steam, and the whiskey - after everything that’s already happened today, suddenly his eyes look like damned salvation, like maybe you could heal each other from this pain. 

Drawing your knees slowly down into the water, Tommy’s hand finds your waist, guiding you as you shift positions, his dark steady gaze never leaving yours.

His legs slip past yours, the feel of skin on skin catches your breath for a moment. You find your thighs sliding down along either side of him as Tommy pulls you over to his side of the washtub, the water sloshing about with the movement. 

Lowering onto his lap, your hands settle and curl around the muscles on his shoulders to steady yourself. You feel the length of him already growing firm beneath you and your eyes pinch shut as a shaky breath vibrates off your lips and a shiver runs over your body, out through your spine.

“Tommy,” You let out on a breath shaky from nerves, your hand slipping around the back of his neck, along his short-cropped hair as the other holds steady to the lean muscle of his shoulder, your fingertips tracing the scar on his back. 

You haven’t been with a man in years and the last time you were all he cared about was getting his, you could have been anyone. 

Finn’s father was different, but you’re old enough now to know the intensity of young love is what made that passion burn so hot, but you knew nothing back then, he was your first. 

Now suddenly you find yourself in a whole new league, with a man nearly ten years your senior, torn between mounting desire and uncertainty of the unknown.

But Tommy always seems to read you, and he’s gentle, far more gentle than the man that runs these streets. The man who’s maimed and beaten countless men. 

The hands that touch you feel like they aren’t capable of such atrocities. Only his calluses and unyielding hold of his grip give way to a darker craftsmanship. 

The warm wetness you feel on his hand is soothing as he tenderly cups your cheek once more. While his arm wraps around your back, pulling you closer to his chest in a way that makes you feel safe in his arms.

“It’s ok, Fiona…” He tells you softly, his voice deep and convincing as if he’s promising he won’t let you fall.

Skin to skin you can hardly breathe as you grow drunker off the feel of his strength melting into your softness. 

Opening your eyes, you look deeply into Tommy’s as he rests right before you, your noses brushing lightly at the tip as the water sways around you, and in that moment, you believe him. You believe this is ok. 

What your doing isn’t a mistake you’ll both have to answer for later. A choice not driven by grief and whiskey. Or a hollowness inside you that desires to be filled, but something worth breaking all your rules for. 

And you trust him. Trust him to be here in this moment, while you’re both so broken and exposed. And when Tommy draws your face to his for a slow burning kiss, you never look back.

His kiss burns against your mouth with need, creating a hunger you haven’t felt in so long you nearly forgot you could feel it. 

But as you break apart and look deep into his eyes, you see it again. Tommy hides it well, always pushing it down, but you remember it. It’s that same vulnerable look in his eyes he had when you first started working for him, after Grace died. 

It tells you what some have forgotten, but you already know, Tommy isn’t dead inside, even though he wishes he was. He still feels the crushing weight of his actions. He may not show it often, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t eat him alive.

You run your hands tenderly along the edge of his face as the sight of his pain breaks your heart.

“Tommy,” You breathe out to him as his gaze drops to your body, his hands sweeping your wet hair back behind your shoulders as he begins to slowly caress and explore the shape of you. 

Slipping above and beneath the water, as his palms roam the contours of your curves, his fingertips lingering teasingly on the delicate spots that make you gasp and shiver.

His dark eyes shooting back up to yours as a heavy sigh leaves your lips with the feel of his thumb brushing teasingly against the peak of your nipple, your breast full in his palm. 

Drunk off the moment, there’s hunger in his eyes as his hands work to elicit the same pleasure driven cry from you again and again.

Tommy kisses you hard, devouring the taste of you when he can’t take just watching you melt in his hands any longer. You feel him stroke you along your thigh, his exploration advancing. 

As the kiss breaks apart, the tip of his nose brushes your own, you still see it, slivers of the pain that makes those often unyielding blue eyes look so vulnerable to you now. 

You cup the side of his jaw, running your thumb along the scruff of his cheek, heart heavy with the pain in his stare.

“Tommy,” You call to him softly again. 

But you realize he can’t go there as Tommy’s hand trails up your thigh. The other gripping your hip so you can’t jerk away from his touch as his fingers find your warmth and begin to gently caress you, stealing a gasp of surprise and pleasure from your lips as you finally see this is what Tommy needs. 

You realize this is what he wants. This is what you can give him to ease his pain and yours too as he leans in to steal the gasp from you lips.

The fire continues to burn strong, filling the room with radiating heat that compliments the whiskey humming through your veins, but it’s the passion of Tommy’s kiss and the move of his fingers that really sets you on fire. Curling, finding places inside of you, you swear only his hands can reach. 

He loves to tease you. Loves the way you rock against his palm, hips grinding against him, begging for more.

“Is that the spot?” He toys with you as if he can’t see you’re coming undone. His breath husky and as drunk as you feel as you gasp against into his kiss, consumed by pleasure.

You want to feel him too, discover him, bring Tommy as much pleasure as he’s rushing through your veins. 

Your hand slips from his shoulder, trailing down the valleys and grooves of his chest and taunt abdomen, exploring the feel of his body on your hand as it slips down beneath the water.

It’s the sound Tommy makes when you take ahold of him, the heat of it vibrating against the shell of your ear, sending shivers rippling under your skin. 

The grit of his breath coupled with the feel of Tommy’s fingers pushing faster within you, stroking that sensitive spot that sets your senses on fire, and suddenly you’re coming completely unraveled in his hand. 

Your forehead presses firmly into his as you rock urgently against him trying to chase the high. Your breath ragged and escaping you as your grip tightens around him.

“That’s it,” You hear Tommy whisper to you encouragingly, his breath strangled and heavy as the rhythm of his hand urges you to ride out the high racing through your veins, leaving your body on fire and his name gasping softly off your lips in desperation.

You could stop here, locked in each other’s arms, take each other to the edge and fall off with your hands alone. 

But’s it’s not enough, not nearly enough. And you know it isn’t for Tommy either as he grips your cheek firmly, staring deep into your eyes as you come back down from your release. 

His pupils blown wide, eyes so dark behind heavy lids you could almost swear the flame came from him and not the fireplace at your back.

It’s the way Tommy kisses you, nipping at your neck and jaw before devouring your mouth to fill you with the taste of him. 

His frenzied assault leaves you wanton and rocking against his hand to relieve the pressure that’s suddenly mounting inside you once again. 

His kiss, it moves against you like he’s wanted this, wanted you for far longer than tonight, but tonight he needs you. Needs you to purge him of everything he can’t bear to feel inside any longer. 

And despite trying to push it all away, you want this too. Want to be his. Want Tommy to know you, all of you, even if just for tonight.

As his fingers leave the warmth of you, you have to resist the whimper that quivers at your lip with the loss of him, but as his hand covers yours, stroking the length of him together, you know what’s coming. 

Tommy thrusts inside you as his tongue delves deep within the warm recess of your mouth, drowning your cries as your body envelopes him, your mouth filling with the taste of him as your body does the same.

Your hands wrap wildly around the back of his neck, your forehead pressed firmly into his, your breath short and hitched as your body tenses trying to accommodate him; it’s been years since a man was inside you. 

Tommy clutches you close, his fingers caressing the curve of your hips, breath panting and ragged against your jawline and neck as he peppers you with tender kisses, working your body to relax. 

Tommy grips firmly at your face as your hips start to roll against him, slowly at first, rediscovering the feel of this. 

His fingers curling around the line of your jaw and neck as Tommy seeks out your eyes, staring into those endless pits as if they could reach down to the very fiber of your soul as he fills you completely. 

Water runs off your chin and down along your neck as Tommy grips at your jaw and pushes your head back, moving you as he pleases. 

His lips kiss and nip their way down your neck as you lean back with his assault, the angle arching your back into Tommy as you rock against him, sinking him deeper inside you and leaving an aching gasp of pleasure spilling rapidly from your lips.

Tommy’s kiss picks up its pace as it returns your mouth, stealing the breath right off your lips as your mind wages a war between the need for air and the taste of him against your tongue. 

Your arms clutch him tighter, hands desperately gripping at his neck and down along his back as Tommy takes charge. 

His arm snaked securely around your back as Tommy uses his strength to move you up and down along the length of him as he pleases, the water gliding you faster as his hips thrusting into you in wild tandem. 

There’s a feeling, that same demanding hunger building deep between your thighs once again with every thrust. You chase it, desperate to feel it again and again as it builds every time Tommy pushes deep within you, your bodies colliding. 

Your hips rock frantically against him, following his lead, greedy for that feeling. The kind of pleasure that clouds your thoughts, makes every nerve in your body tingle and spark as it builds and mounts with the promise to explode if only you can catch it.

Water splashes heavily at your back like waves crashing in toward the beach as you and Tommy charge closer toward the edge - lost in each other. 

You know it’s spilling out of the tub onto the old wooden floorboards below, you can hear the heavy drops, but you can’t bring yourself to care as Tommy’s grips your tighter, pulling you back down onto him at the exact moment he’s pushing recklessly into you. Sending a desperate gasp reverberating into his open mouth as a shockwave of pleasure jolts you violently closer to the abyss.

You’ve never felt like this before, not even with Tony. 

Tommy knows your body so well without ever having touched it before. Every button, every itch, his experience reveals itself as he drives you closer and closer to the inevitable edge you’re so hungry to reach. 

With Tommy every sense inside your body is completely on fire. Every sense inside focused on him and what’s building between you. Nothing else matters, the world doesn’t exist. 

Your hands grip desperately at him, breath panting as you steal another kiss he’s all too willing to give. Your hunger for release growing more frantic as Tommy’s hands grip and mold at your flesh. Moving your body in ways that only heighten your pleasure and leave you desperately following his lead in hopes for more.

Your senses flood with the feel of Tommy thrusting within you, filling you till you can hardly breathe. The feel of his hands - moving you, teaching you how to go higher than you ever have before. 

You gasp desperately against his mouth as he lifts you off him slowly only to swiftly pull you back down before you can even catch your breath.

“Tommy-“ You gasp, your body clenching around him as you begin to teeter over the edge.

“Tommy-“ His name keep spilling from your lips and against his as your heart pounds wildly out of control. 

Your breath begs for that undefinable relief you know only he can give you as your clutch wildly at the back of his head, holding him as close as you can get.

You feel Tommy’s hand leave the curve of your back with the desperate plea from your lips, sinking beneath the water before it finds you. 

You gasp sharply, your eyes locked on Tommy’s as the pad of his thumb finds the sensitive bud of your body, tucked tightly between your waring bodies, at the apex of your thighs.

Your fingers dig into his scalp and back, your head pressing firmly into his as you rock frantically against his hand and the length of him, reaching for something just beyond your reach and yet so close. 

A place you feel only he can take you as the swirl of his thumb suddenly sends it charging at you. Your heart pounds beyond control, you can hardly breath, lost in the sensation of Tommy all around you, the fullness of him within you as you feel yourself begin to slip and crumble.

You feel Tommy’s fingers dig into your back, his breath growing deeper and more erratic against your lips as he speaks.

“That’s right, love… Let go.” The husky rich grit of his breath is heavy against your lips, giving you that final push over the edge as you clench your thighs around Tommy, your hips grinding against him as the swirl his thumb drives the madness racing inside you.

Suddenly the world stops as you gasp sharply, Tommy gripping you tight. For a split second everything disappears, blows out around you like a giant explosion far bigger than the first one, only to come crashing back in like a tsunami, washing over you in waves of fire and ecstasy. 

Sparking and burning so hot it blows out your senses as you rock harder against him, listening as your voice gasps out his name as if it’s the only name you know.

You feel Tommy falling apart seconds behind you, your release pushing him over the edge as he grips you tightly against him, the strength of his arms holding you flush to his body. 

Skin against skin, you’re still riding out the explosion pulsing through you, his name pitching off your breath and into Tommy’s ear as his rhythm grows more frantic, more erratic by the second, his breath gasping. 

Tommy’s grip on you grows tighter as he moves you more swiftly against him. You try desperately to find your breath as you feel Tommy’s head fall heavily onto your shoulder, his face in the crook of your neck as your fingers tug at his hair.

A curse rips deep from within his throat, your name following quick behind in a heavy burst of breath against the nape of your neck as you feel his muscles grow tight all around you. As you feel Tommy tense beneath your palms, against your body as he releases into you.

You come down slowly in the grips of a heavy haze. Tommy holds you firmly to him as he slowly sinks deeper into the water. 

Dragging you with him as his head settles along the back lip of the tub. His breath sounds as heavy as yours feels. 

You can feel his heart pounding through his chest beneath you to the same frantic beat yours is moving to. You rest your head against his shoulder, his skin slick from water and sweat. 

Your face settles in the crook of his neck as your body lies sprawled across him. You don’t try to move, you stay like this, with him still inside you, and the hold Tommy has on you tells you he doesn’t want you to go anywhere either. 

Every fiber in your body feels completely spent as your eyes lull closed. Your lips trail lazily against the skin of his neck before you kiss him tenderly.

You hear Tommy spark a cigarette. You listen half in a dream as he pulls at it, listen as the smoke blows free from his lips. 

Your arms winding around him beneath the warm water as your breath slows and deepens. 

He shifts just slightly, his cheek turning into you before his lips press against your brow, while the hand on your back moves lazily along your spine. 

Your lulled by the slow steadying of his breath, the feel of his touch, the inhale and exhale as he pulls from his cigarette, the slow burn of the paper. 

The fire leaves the room warm, but the feel of Tommy beneath you, wrapped around you, leaves you warmer. 

The heaviness of the world and all the pain that awaits you in the morning slowly slips away as your eyes fall closed.


	7. In The Bleak Midwinter || Part 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things will be revealed in this chapter about Fiona that I had tried to hint to throughout. So hopefully they make sense and it’s not a boring twist.
> 
> As always thank you for all the support. Comments and kudos are appreciated. And happy memorial day weekend.

You awaken to the sound of your name echoing in your head. Pounding as if it’s being slammed against the wall over and over again.

“Mummy, mummy, mummy,” They call. 

The pitch of their little voices is usually a sweet melody to your ears, but this morning it feels like it’s bouncing around in your head, slamming against the confines of your skull. 

Your eyes open begrudgingly and the morning light assaults your them on contact. You squint, rubbing at your eyes. 

Even the morning haze from the factory smoke and chimneys burning hot all night doesn’t dull the sun’s rays as they feel like their piercing through your pupil from the window.

“Mum we’re hungry.” Finn says as he sees your eyes open. 

Your gaze shifts to him and Charlie at your bedside. 

You force a smile to welcome them, even though it takes great effort this morning. 

The world slowly returns around you as you feel the blankets against your skin… your bare skin. As the sensation washes over you so does a sense of panic. 

Your gaze dropping down, relieved only by the sight that your completely covered beneath the blanket that rests high across your chest, tucked beneath your arms. You clutch the quilt tighter against your body as your gaze returns to your boys.

“Alright, I’m gettin’ up. Go on down stairs. I’ll be down in a moment to make yeah breakfast.” You tell them both, smiling at each of them warmly, running your thumb across their rounded cheeks briefly. 

Hoping they’re too young to wonder why you’re in Tommy’s bed this morning instead of your own.

And they don’t seem to as they nod quickly and dash for the door, racing each other to see who can make it out first, the sound of their scurrying feet pounding in your head.

Once they’re gone, you let your eyes fall closed, your head heavy against the pillow as the events of the night before resurfacing in your mind… Tommy… the washtub… You wince. 

Your forehead wrinkling as you press into your eyes with the realization Tommy’s still inside you, you didn’t even have the good sense to have him pull out. 

Your heart sinks with a heaviness that physically weighs on your chest like a brick wedged between your ribs. 

And the fact that you find yourself alone in his bed only makes it worse. It doesn’t take a fool to put the pieces together.

You were drunk, both of you, his brother had just died and he needed to lick his wounds. And like the whore so many thought you were after getting pregnant with Finn out of wedlock, you let him fuck his pain away in you. 

But perhaps the biggest joke is on you, because you weren’t just fuckin’ him. 

Not even with all the whiskey that leaves your head now pounding in the morning light. Having Tommy meant something different for you. Something that terrifies you even now to think about, because there’s no place for it. It doesn’t fit in the structure and chaos of this life.

You try to push all your worries aside as your gaze drifts down to the floor, trying to spot your dress. 

You find it crumpled in a pile where you left it last night before climbing in the tub. 

Glancing at the door one more time to make sure it’s shut, you pull the blanket back and slowly sit up, the cool air rushing against your bare skin. 

Head pounding, you rub briefly at your temples before forcing yourself to rise off the mattress. The floorboards creak beneath your bare feet as you move quickly for your clothes in case the children come back.

You snatch it up as you hear footsteps coming down the hall. Heart picking up its pace, you manage to slip your dress over your head, tugging it down the length of your body as a quick knock sounds on the door and the knob starts to turn.

“Tommy, Ada just got ‘ere-“ Finn says as he comes walking in. 

Your big eyes shoot his way, catching the same startled look in his as everything freezes mid-breath. 

Tommy’s youngest brother, tall and all limbs at this age but still has his baby face underneath his razor lined cap, you’ve seen Finn more than the others over the years, but never like this.

You watch his face turn several shades of red against the paleness of his skin as you clutch at the open buttons along the bosom of your dress, pulling them closed as you quickly turn away from him.

“Sorry Fiona, I didn’t-“ He starts to apologize, fumbling over his words like the awkward teenager he is.

But you’re both saved from the embarrassment blushing at your cheeks as Tommy suddenly appears. Pushing past Finn as he enters the room.

“Finn, get out. Ada brought biscuits, go downstairs, get somethin’ to eat and make sure the boys get somethin’ too. I’ll be down in a minute.” Tommy orders smoothly, far more calm than either you or Finn are as your fingers make quick work to fasten the top buttons of your dress.

Glancing over your shoulders, you watch Finn nod nervous, limbs fidgeting with unease before turning quickly for the door.

“And Finn-“ Tommy calls before he can leave.

“I know,” Finn says on a quick breath, interrupting Tommy before he can finish his sentence as he turns back. 

His big eyes meeting yours briefly before they fall on his big brother. “I won’ tell anyone I saw her in ‘ere.”

Tommy nods, sparking up a cigarette. His casual ease in stark contrast to the tension heavy between you and Finn in the room.

“Good boy. Now go to it before the others get ‘ere.” Tommy orders with a nod.

You hear the door click at your back and suddenly it’s just you and Tommy. You finish the buttons on your dress as you suck in a steady breath. 

You try to calm the sudden speed of your heart as it betrays you when the intoxicating smell of him filling your lungs. 

Tommy’s your friend, you try to remind yourself… Your family… who’s also your boss… and a notorious gangster. And worst of all… the man you’ve fallen for. Suddenly your head is spinning and you take a deep breath to try and bring yourself back to center - Focus. 

Turning to him, you try to gauge where Tommy is at after everything that happened last night.

Your eyes catch and your mind instantly fills with the memory of his hands running along your body, the look in his eyes as his skin moving against your own.

“How ‘re you feelin?” Tommy asks matter-of-factly as he pulls at the cigarette burning at his lips.

He’s distant, that’s what you sense as you stand beside him. Formal, like he hasn’t been with you since you first started working for him. 

The tone of his voice the same one he uses with Frances or when he makes a business call, and the sound of it sends you on guard now too.

“I’ve had better mornin’s. My head hurts a bit.” You admit honestly, keeping your heart at a distance, your tone equally reserved, because two could play this game. 

Your gaze drops from his as you speak, searching the floor for your damn knickers that seem to be nowhere in sight. You could have sworn you left them right next to your dress. 

Your eyes scour the floor, sweeping from edge to edge along the old wooden beams in futile frustration until you turn back his way and find them dangling off Tommy’s index finger as he takes another long pull from his cigarette. Cheeky smirk curling at the corner of his mouth in amusement as he waits for you to notice. 

Your eyes catch his, your cheeks burning with embarrassment as you quickly snatch them from him.

“Brew some tea and pour a little rum in it… it’ll help.” You hear Tommy instruct as you quickly slip your knickers up your bare legs, careful not to reveal yourself to him as you slip them under your dress. 

Fire begins to stir in your belly with his casual tone. He’ll nurse your hangover and tease you with your panties, but he won’t say a word about last night. 

You resist the urge to give him a piece of your mind then and there. But now isn’t the time, you need to gather your thoughts and his family is either already downstairs or on their way. 

You refuse to have anyone else find out what you’ve done to yourself.

Turning from him, you move for the mirror along the far wall, beside the fireplace, and start pulling your hair up, fishing pins from your dress pocket to push in your hair. 

Tommy’s voice picks up at your back, his steady stride following you across the room, shoes clipping on the old floorboards.

“Fiona…” Tommy starts on a long heavy breath and another pull from his cigarette before he tosses it into the fireplace.

“I’m not gonna lie to yeah ‘bout last night. I can keep yeah safe, but not if your too close. Too close an’ it puts you at risk. There’s people who’ll use you to get to me… So for now, it’s just best if we just keep things the way they are.”

Fastening the last pin to hold your hair in a loose bun, you bite down hard on your bottom lip to fight the tightening in your chest. 

There it is, you think – he does have the balls to bring it up, but it was just as you suspected in the morning light… you were a tool to ease his pain. 

Anger churns in your belly. Angry with yourself for loving him and angry at him for using it against you. 

If that’s how he wants it, you tell yourself… but Tommy doesn’t get the privilege of knowing he hurt you, made you feel used. You refuse to give him that.

Pushing down your feelings, you turn to him, looking him square in the eye.

“I understand. Just a fuck after a long day, eh Tom?” You say boldly, your words more crass than you’ve ever spoken to him before and you swear you hear his breath stop for a moment as he stares at you.

“…Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna brew that tea and make sure the children get fed before everyone arrives.” You finish strong, refusing to give him an inch.

Staring into his eyes, you suddenly need to get as far away from Thomas Shelby as possible as you move past him and head for the door before you say something you’ll regret. 

The brass knob turns in your tight grip and you manage to pull the door halfway open before Tommy pushes it shut, wedging his way between you and the door.

You refuse to look at him the way you know he expects you to, your eyes stay steady on the wood grain of the door waiting for him to move, until Tommy grabs your chin and forces you to look at him.

“You afraid of me?” He asks, his voice low and full of grit as his eyes pierce deep within you from so close up. 

His warm breath hits your lips in a way you wish wasn’t intoxicating, in a way you wish your body would stop fucking betraying you.

He’s trying to intimidate you, you know this, but it isn’t working. The question is ridiculous and you try not to roll your eyes with the absurdity of it as you answer him.

“No,” You say boldly, your eyes not flinching from his gaze.

Tommy looks you dead in the eye, pinching your chin a little tighter to make his point.

“You should be. I’m not a good man, Fiona.” He warns on a heavy breath.

His words are the final straw on the anger simmering through your veins as you pull away from his grip.

“Ah fuck off, Tommy. Jus’ fuck off.” You scoff, the first sparks of fire licking off your tongue, refusing to be played with. 

You know what he is, you knew from the start and you’re not gonna let him pretend like he’s sparing you out of mercy now so he can feel noble and good about how this ended out.

The fire on your tongue… you watch it make something shift in Tommy’s eyes as you call him out on his nonsense instead of playing into his hand. 

You watch something honest and real slowly surfaces in the endless pits of his blue eyes as you pull away. Something you recognize from last night as your bodies came together and all the times before when Tommy would let down his guard, and let you in.

His rough hand slips across your cheek to cup it even as you try to resist his touch. 

Your mind warns you to pull away, don’t fall in his trap, don’t let yourself be weak to him again. 

But your heart reaches out for the familiarity in his eyes, the trust you’ve built between each other, the truths you know about him. The side of himself he doesn’t let most people see.

“Alright listen,” Tommy starts again, his voice low and deep like a whisper meant only for you as his thumb strokes softly at your cheek.

“There’s some things I gotta do, Fee and I can’t be worrying about whether someone is gonna come after you in return for it when I do. No one gives a fuck about Charlie’s nanny, but if they know yeah mean somethin’ to me they could use you to hurt me, an’ I can’t have that. I thought I could keep people safe once, but after Grace and now John…” His words stop suddenly, you watch his throat bob hard in this throat. 

You watch as he battles with the pain in his eyes, trying to hold himself steady, composed.

“I need to know yer safe an’ right now that’s away from me, understand?”

You don’t know what to say as you nod numbly into his palm, stunned as you realize you had it all wrong. 

Last night meant more for him than you gave him credit. It meant something closer to what it meant for you and looking into his eyes, you can see you aren’t the only one with complicated feelings tangled up in this.

A sudden knock at the door breaks the gravity of the moment as Tommy’s hand instantly drops from your face and you take a quick step back from him, Finn’s voice filters in from behind the door. 

“Tommy everyone’s downstairs.”

“Be right down.” Tommy answers back before the trot of Finn’s feet echoes back down the old creaky hall.

“I’ll get the children.” You say, reaching for the knob once again. “Keep ‘em busy up here.”

But Tommy shakes his head, the movement catching your eyes.

“No, I want you at the table. I’ll have one of the boys watch the children.”

You stare at him slightly confused, eyes narrowing. You’ve never been part of the company. 

Tommy shared things with you, even sought out your advice on matters he needed to mull over, but it’s always been just the two of you. You’ve never been invited to an actual family meeting.

“I’m not family, Tommy.” You correct him as if he needs to be reminded.

A small smirk twitches at the corner of his mouth just for you as if he’s amused by the obviousness of your statement. 

He leans in close once again, looks you dead in the eye, with that look of certainty and command that few can match.

“You are to me.” He says without hesitation.

You follow Tommy into the parlor, just a step behind him, past the curtains that separate the family home from the business of the betting shop, just off the kitchen. 

His family and closest friends gathered round. They all eye you on arrival, some more briefly than others, but it’s the women, all knowing and curious that stare at you the hardest when Tommy motions for you to take a seat at the table.

Seated beside Ada, her dark eyes land heavy on you. There’s a knowing look twisting in her pupil as she looks you over before her gaze shifts to her brother. 

Your gaze drops as she looks to Tommy, but still you don’t miss the quiet huff of assumption that lifts off her chest.

Tommy stands at the head of the table, oblivious or unapologetic to the upset your presence brings. 

Standing tall, shoulders broad with an authority that breathes off him without question. Everyone’s seated or standing around, awaiting word of the storm that’s rolled into town, come with the sole purpose to blow them all away. 

Your eyes stay trained on Tommy as you sit beside Ada, Finn awkwardly standing at you back.

Tommy clears his throat, standing tall like the ring leader of this show, all his performers gathered around awaiting instruction of what’s to unfold. 

But as Tommy finally reveals what fury has been brought down upon them, words of revenge and Italians slipping calmly past his lips, your stomach begins to church with an old familiar sickness.

“Eye for an eye.” Tommy says as a shiver runs down your spine, because you know what’s coming next before the words ever leave his lips. “It’s called-“

“Vendetta,” You say it at the exact moment he does, but no one hears you. 

No one, but him. 

His sharp piercing blues land hard upon you, holding your eyes with an unreadable gaze as your stomach twists and ties until you feel like you might be ill in your seat, because you get the sense you know even better than Tommy what he’s up against.

Tommy carries on without missing a beat, his gaze pulling away from you as he lays out the plan. You watch Arthur pull a bullet from his waistcoat pocket with a name scrawled across it, before Polly cuts the tension thick air with a sarcastic mocking laugh that would normally put your sense on edge, but you hardly feel it as nerves race through your veins for an entirely different reason. 

A vote you have no reason to take part in unfolds, but you barely witness any of it. Your heart pounds out of control within the cage of your chest as your eyes never leave Tommy. 

Staring at him as if he’s a dead man walking…

Let’s get on with the war, Tommy convenes and everyone disperses while your lost in a fog. You follow their lead, rising from the table numbly. 

The pieces all finally falling into place. The man Tommy killed at the house, leaving in haste in the middle of the night, John murdered on his doorstep Christmas morning…

Glancing around the room you see everyone’s gone their own way, Ada sharing a quiet word with Lizzie and Polly in the corner, while Finn joins Isiah and Jeremiah by the fireplace, as Charlie and Curly move for the door. 

You look around unsure where you fit in all this, if you do at all.

You’re lost in your head until you feel someone lightly touch your arm, your eyes rise and focus to find Arthur standing before you, Linda at his side. 

He looks tired and broken, but a genuine smile subtly curves on his face. He’s openly gentle in a way Tommy has lost sight of.

“You’re a good woman. I can see that. He needs that.” He tells you, his voice deep with grit like Tommy’s, but quietly hopeful like a big brother who’s watched his little brother suffer for too long. 

You know what he’s implying and normally you’d correct him, but the fear surging in your heart leaves you too preoccupied to rally to the occasion. Especially since he isn’t entirely wrong.

You offer Arthur a small smile and Linda one in turn before she steps in front of him and directly in your eyeline.

“Save yourself and your boy a world a heartache and get away from all this.” Linda tells you, looking you square in the eye. Her gaze not flinching before she turns away, taking Arthur with her. 

And your Left with a world of troubles and no answers to find. Your feet idyll and move slowly toward the stairs just off the betting shop, with all the fear inside you, you find the sudden urge to check on the children. Make sure they’re alright.

“She’s right, yeah know.” A smooth voice calls from your back. Spinning around to come face to face with Polly, you hadn’t even heard her come up on you.

“Polly,” You practically sigh, pulling her into a tight hug, before you realize how overt your gesture is and slowly release the woman.

“You’re a sweet girl. You can still get out of this before Tommy makes you pay more than you can give.” She offers up words of wisdom, like a woman who knows all too well. Her haunting eyes, bewitched and reaching into you as if there’s nothing you can hide.

You believe her unquestionably, because for all the bad blood between her and Tommy, even you know that no one knows Tommy quite like Polly does. 

Your heart hammers harder with her warning. Your motherly instinct says to run. Take Finn and go. But where? Tommy’s generosity has given you enough to survive for a while, but not forever. This is your family, you have no one else. 

And leaving would require leaving Charlie. And you’re not sure you can do that. He may not be your blood, but you love him like he is. And the instinct inside you that wants to run to keep Finn safe, is the same instinct that won’t let you abandon Charlie either.

“I can’t leave him…” You hear your voice answer honestly. A truth so raw your mind didn’t even have time to taint it with all the formalities of proper conservation.

“Who?” Polly asks, her eyes pricking at you, searching deep within you. Magical like Tommy’s, but for an entirely different reason, from a different sort of power. 

“Charlie… or Tommy?”

Your chest tightens with the truth. You can’t leave him either and the look in Polly’s gaze tells you she already knows it. A sigh leaves your chest… 

“Both.”

Polly let’s off a low “Mmhmmm,” 

As she slowly shakes her head. “That’s what I thought.”

You feel a hand suddenly wrap around your arm. Catching you off guard, your face whips to the side to see Tommy standing beside you.

“I need to have a word with Ms. Hayes.” Tommy says, but he isn’t looking at you, rather his eyes meet and hold with Polly’s. 

Her eyes shift between you and Tommy, you can practically see the wheels turning in her mind before you watch the two of them square off for a brief moment, eyes meeting in a silent subtle power struggle, before Polly nods and Tommy leads you away. You’re not sure who won the fight or if it was just truth being revealed. 

Once out of sight of the others he drops your arm, but snatches your hand and quickly pulls you through the house, and out the back entrance, into the back alley.

Your back pushes lightly against the brick wall covering the back of the building as Tommy covers the front of you. 

His size and body heat envelope you with his proximity, a stark contrast to the cold bricks pinching at your back. His eyes hover over yours, piercing you with his unyielding gaze in a way that makes your heart pound harder by the second. 

Your breath hitches in your throat, unsure of what he’s doing or what he’ll do next until he speaks.

“What aren’t you tellin’ me?” Tommy questions you with suspicion, so close the warmth of his breath fans at the loose frayed hairs around your face, making them dance like a leaf in the wind.

With all the thoughts racing in your head, all the fear for him and the others, for your boys, you find yourself caught off guard by the vagueness of the question.

“What do yea mean?” You ask, suddenly unsure.

Tommy is a man with little patience when he thinks he’s being played with, a fact he’s quick to remind you of.

“What does a Irish catholic girl know about vendetta?” He whispers out, his breath low and swift. His eyes searching yours for answers your lips have yet to reveal.

You swallow hard, holding the chill of his gaze.

“I know it’s not a game, Tommy. They don’t stop. Not until they’ve taken everything an’ everyone you love.” You answer him honestly. 

You’re not an expert, you won’t pretend to be, but what you do know, spurs a fear heavy in your heart and sends the weight of his predicament slamming down around it with a new level of fear for him. 

You have no doubts about what Tommy is capable of, you know the notorious nature of his reputation, but this is trouble on another dimension.

You feel Tommy’s hands enclose around your face, forcing you to focus on only him. His eyes narrowing, calculating, and you can see he’s weighing every possible angle.

“How do yeah know this? What ‘er you hidin?” Tommy interrogates you with a jaw so sharp it could cut you like a knife. The patience on his breath wearing thin.

The shift his eyes, the lack of trust. Suddenly you understand. He’s been here before. Been betrayed by someone he held close. 

And with it you realize it’s finally time to come clean. With all of it. You had felt it in your gut sitting at that table, you always planned to tell him, when the time was right, but now you knew you had to.

“Finn isn’t named after his father. He’s named after one of my brothers.” You explain, trying to find the best place to start. The best way to explain this to him without upsetting him more than he already is.

Tommy looks at you, his breath still fanning against your face, his grip still steady on your cheeks, the only sign he heard you at all is the shift in his gaze, as his eyes turn with confusion, he doesn’t understand what you’re trying to say.

You take a deep breath and whisper the truth. “His father’s name was Anthony Vitali.”

You watch the weight of your answer slowly settle in across his face as his hand fall away from your face. 

Tommy eyes you with disbelief as he takes a step back, hardly believing what you just said. Quite the feat for a man rarely stunned.

Turning from you, you watch his head shake slowly from side to side as he tries to wrap his mind around what you’ve just revealed. His fine shoes dig into the damp dirt and muck as he paces around the back alley he dragged you out to. The no man’s land that belongs to everyone and no one behind the row houses. 

You don’t say a word. You let him think it over, let it settle with him first, before he suddenly stops and turns back your way.

“Part of the Vitali family? Cousins of Sabini?” Tommy huffs in disbelief and disgust. 

You watch his temper rising in his cold eyes, tightening at his jaw as he quickly moves back to you once again.

“An’ what kind of a woman climbs in bed with a fuckin wop?” He sneers, his breath seething.

You’ve heard that word before, but never from him. And you get it, John was just gunned down by Italians, Grace was murdered by Italians, he has history with Sabini, but still…

There he is, that side of Tommy you haven’t seen since you first started working for him. The cold ruthless bastard who thinks he can say anything he wants to whoever he wants, and suddenly you want to lay into him hard across his face for thinking he can speak to you in such a way. 

But instead you remind yourself you don’t take grievance or judgement from him or any man as you charge toward him, heels sinking slightly in the mud.

Stopping directly in front of him, staring boldly back into his judgement filled eyes, you don’t back down.

“The kind that gets throw to streets for it and then climbs into bed with a gypsy.” You throw back at him unapologetically, your own chest heaving as your temper rises. Reminding Tommy there’s a name for what he is too.

You watch Tommy’s jaw flex as he searches your eyes, steadily blinking as he looks for something he has yet to find.

“Who are you?” Tommy suddenly asks. 

You knew it was coming. Knew this all wouldn’t add up for a man as clever as Thomas Shelby. He’s far too smart for that. 

How a supposed Irish girl from Birmingham would get tangled up with one of the most notorious Italian families in London, produce one of their bastards.

The air shifts around you, the coldness hanging in the subtle breeze chills your lungs as you hold your ground.

“No one.” You tell him unflinchingly, because you need him to understand who you were and who you are, are very different people. 

“I came to Birmingham to be no one.”

“Fiona” Tommy presses, his jaw tightening, unamused by your play on words.

Meeting his eyes, you let him have it. For all the hot blood boiling between you two in the moment, you remind yourself what you have is based on trust and it’s time he learns it all.

“My father was an accountant. He kept the books for crooked men back in London. He had no loyalties. Only greed. That’s how I met Finn’s father. Tony was the son of one of my dad’s clients. And when I came here I left all that behind like it had left me. I hid my past to protect me and Finn, and after a while, I just- I didn’t know how to tell you… That’s how I know what vendetta means.” You lay it all out there. 

Your past in all its bitter truths. A past you’ve been running from since they kicked you to the curb, alone and pregnant at seventeen. Coming here after your brother’s death for a clean slate, knowing you and Finn would only be used as pawns if people knew the truth.

“Fuckin hell, Fee” Tommy lets out on an exasperate breath, taking a step back from you.

“I had to protect Finn.” You tell him as he runs his hands heavily over his face, before his pointed gaze slams back onto you.

“Your father worked for business men in London and you didn’t think I needed to know that?”

“Businessmen.” You scoff, trying not to laugh. 

“My father worked for gangsters. Men like you. I wasn’t blind then an’ I ain’t blind now. My eyes are wide open, Tommy. I see you. I know what you are. I know what you do. An’ I didn’ say anythin’ cuz it’s not who I am anymore. I haven’t been that girl in a very long time.” You throw back at him. 

Laying it all out there. Making it clear you see him just as clearly as he sees you now. And neither of your hands are clean.

Suddenly Tommy’s closing in on you, driving you back. Your feet move back unconsciously with his charge until your back hits the brick wall, the edges stabbing into your flesh and you’re forced to stop, but Tommy keeps coming until he’s hovering over you, inches from your face.

“You playin’ games? You workin for both sides?” He hisses, his whisper deadly, and if you feared him, you’d be terrified right now, but you’re not. 

You know what’s in his heart, even now, Tommy would never hurt you. He isn’t that kind of man. He’s just scared. Scared that you’re a weapon in disguise, sent to be used against him

You stare up into his deep-set eyes, unflinching, barely blinking. “You think I’d betray you, Tommy?” You ask him honestly.

Tommy stares down at you, his face set like stone and just as unyielding as he searches your eyes. The air looms heavy around you, suspended between you and thick in your lungs. The moment feels like it lasts forever, every second longer and harder to bare than the last.

You can hardly breathe until you feel his thumb brush across the curve of your cheek, palm settling along your jaw.

“No,” He answers simply, honestly.

And in the moment, he’s back. You recognize those eyes so clearly as you stare back into them. 

The eyes that have kept you company on so many lonely nights or long walks at the manor. The eyes that pushed you over the edge, but never let you fall alone last night. 

This is the man that has stolen your heart, this is the man you love, whether you like it or not.

You reach for him too, running your hand along his as it rests at your face. Your eyes holding steady with his own. “I’d never betray you, Tommy…” You swear it. 

“Never.”

You can’t look away from Tommy as your breath slowly deepens. He’s so close to you now, you can feel the rhythm of his body against you, his every breath moving in time with your own. You feel like he can see everything inside you and you swear you feel like he’s revealed before you too in those dark endless eyes of his. 

The heat from your argument only adding fuel to create a different kind of fire between you. The dangerous kind. Warmth prickles on your skin as you watch his eyes dart to your mouth, you watch his tongue swipe across his lips as if he likes what he sees. 

His gaze returning to yours for confirmation before you feel his thumb drag slowly against your bottom lip. The pad of his thumb is seducing as your mouth parts in response. A hunger you’re rapidly becoming addicted to coils in your belly as you run your tongue across your bottom lip, the tip tracing along his thumb to give you a little taste of him. 

You hear something close to a groan rumble out of Tommy in response. You watch those beautiful blues turn a shade darker as your feel the heat coming back to life between you, rapidly reigniting, wild and untamed in a way that should alarm you both.

“Tommy?” You hear coming out the back as you shoot apart with only seconds to spare.

It’s Lizzie who appears at the backdoor, staring at you both for a moment before she speaks.

“Arthur’s looking for you.” She says.

“Right,” Tommy answers with a quick nod your way before he turns for the house as if nothing had happened.

You’re not sure if Lizzie is still standing there or follows Tommy inside as you push your back deeper against the brick wall. 

Letting your head fall back against it too as your eyes fall closed and a heavy sigh lifts off your chest with the realization… 

Keeping things the way they were before might not be as easy as either of you thought…


	8. In The Bleak Midwinter || Part 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These two are a complicated pair, each with enough baggage to burn down a house. 
> 
> I tried to model a small part after one of my favorite scene in 1x06. See if you catch it. Hopefully I did it justice.

It’s so late when he finally comes home, Tommy doesn’t even check to see if you’re still up. 

The sun set hours ago, the moon high up in the sky, hidden behind the blanket of clouds that cover everything, raining down on the earth like a child in a need a bath.

Tommy heads straight up to his room. Moving slowly on the old creaky wooden steps he knows by heart. His feet weaving as he moves around the ones that squeal and the ones that will bear his weight more forgivingly. 

You watch him silently from the shadow of the curtain that separates the betting shop as he goes, before you move for the parlor to pour you both a drink. 

Polly glances up at you from where she sits by the fire with a book and a drink. As far you can tell Tommy hasn’t told her or anyone else about who you really are. No one’s said a thing.

“Thought I’d bring him a drink,” You say simply, softly.

“I’m sure that’s just what he wants.” She answers calmly. A look in her eye - illuminated by the fire, it makes goosebumps form on your skin, and sends the distinct feeling she knows everything stirring in your belly.

You follow Tommy up the stairs, quiet as not wake the boys asleep in your room, or his brother Finn in the other as you stand outside the crack of Tommy’s door, taking a moment to watch him. 

You find him standing in front of the window and you wonder if it’s his favorite place to stand and ponder the day’s events – the loot and prices, gains and losses. 

The rain beats heavy down against the panes of glass, echoing through the room. He’s already taken off his jacket, standing in his pinstripe button down, suspenders, and trousers before the window. 

The street light illuminating him as he puffs away at a cigarette. The smoke billowing and dancing around him in the glow cascading in through the window.

It’s the creak of the door that gives you away as you slip inside his room. Sending Tommy turning back around to see who’s there.

“What time you call this?” You say on a quiet breath you hope won’t carry through the house and the thin walls. 

You move toward him, hand extended out, offering him the drink you so graciously poured.

Tommy takes the drink, a smile wide spreading across his face, crinkling at his eyes. Bringing a boyish lightness to his face you so rarely see these days. The sight of it blinds you. Leaves you captive to the magic of it as you stare at his beautiful smile, like lookin’ at the sun.

“You waitin up for me now?” Tommy says, that spark in his eyes enough to leave you mesmerized as you slowly move back, searching for clarity and something solid to hold onto, until you reach the wall near the door.

Leaning against it, you take a slow slip of your drink to distract yourself from the power of his gaze and shrug your shoulders lightly.

“I like to know you’re home safe.” You admit.

Tommy follows your lead, taking a sip of whiskey as his eyes hold steadily upon you, gazing over the rim of the glass in a way that makes your skin prickle with goosebumps.

“Might start to think yeah missed me.” Tommy says on that low gritty breath of his that makes your senses come alive, before he takes another long pull from his cigarette.

“But you know better.” You tease him through a cheeky grin, taking another sip of your drink.

You didn’t come in here to flirt with him. That wasn’t the plan. You came in to hear about his day over a drink like you use to, but as Tommy moves across the room and closer to you, you realize things aren’t the way they were before. You’ve crossed some invisible barrier and now there’s no way back.

Your breath quickens and grows shallow as Tommy takes the glass from your hand, setting it on the dresser by his bed. 

Stubbing out his cigarette, he stealthily moves back to you like a thief in the night, closing in on his prey without warning. Having Tommy close once again, watching his body settle over yours, the shadow of him covering you as your eyes finds his, only amplifies how different things are now.

And you wish you could pretend this surprises you, startles you in some way. Pretend you wish things would just go back to the way they were before – something simpler, but all your bravado and games slip away as the distinct scent of Tommy fills your nose, intoxicating your senses. 

The heat of his body – warm and calling, the feel of him near sends your heart pounding harder in your chest as you stare up into his hauntingly deep eyes anxiously awaiting his next move. 

Daring to see what he’ll do next. See what he wants, even though you already feel it in your bones.

“You missed me.” Tommy whispers, on a low sexy breath full of gravel. No question in his words as his thumb and forefinger pinch at the bottom of your chin. 

You want to deny it, you don’t want to give into him so easily, but you can’t stop the pull inside you. You’ve missed him. And you had no idea how badly until you have him this close once again. 

Your body suddenly betrays you, aching for him to come just a little closer as Tommy tilts your face slowly up to his. The rough pad of his thumb running teasingly over your bottom lip. 

Pulling at the plump flesh as his eyes drill into yours, daring you to deny what he already knows… you missed him, you missed him so fucking bad. Your eyes fall closed as Tommy leans down to kiss you, putting you out of your misery. His lips are as soft as you remember, but his kiss is firm and hungry like he’s missed you just as badly. 

It’s that knowledge coupled with the heat of his mouth that has you surrendering, kissing him back just as hard without hesitation. It’s barely been a week since you tasted him and already you greedily drink him in like you’ve been lost in the desert for weeks.

Tommy tastes like whiskey and cigarettes, not your favorite combination, but on him you can’t seem to get enough. You want to drink Tommy in while he devours you alive, all in the same breath. 

Your arms lace around his neck, your hands running against his short hair, the gentle curve of his head and tangle into the longer strands on top, weak against your need for him. 

Tommy’s tongue slips inside your mouth with the unspoken invitation of your parted lips. Your senses welcome him, rushing and coming alive with the taste of him rich and full within you once again, more intoxicating than the finest whiskey to ever pass your lips.

It’s the feel of Tommy’s hand at the back of your head that catches your attention, tangling into your locks, pulling you deeper into the kiss he’s so eager to take from you. 

Until you’re forced to break apart as your lung beg for air. His breath is heavy against your lips, as rapid as your own, as the feel of having Tommy close once again pounds wild in your heart. 

You think you might gain a moment of clarity in this haze of desire, but instead you’re pulled back under the currents of this unrelenting wave before you can even catch your breath as Tommy’s assault moves steadily down along the line of your jaw, pepping you with kisses, leaving you delirious and poor in judgment.

“Tommy, the boys are in the next room, Finn’s in the other an’ Polly’s downstairs.” You manage to whisper, reminding him that while you might feel alone, in truth - you’re anything but. 

This house is full and the walls are thin. Your breath far more heavy and wanton than you intended as it shutters past your lips with the feel of Tommy’s mouth slipping down just below your ear to that delicate spot that makes your knees go weak as you clutch him tighter.

“Then yeah better be quiet, eh?” Tommy teases, you can hear it on his breath. 

His voice deep and dark as it rattles against your skin, before he gives you a love bite just below your ear, his hand reaching over beside you to slowly close the bedroom door. The hinges creaking and moaning against his force.

Your heart races with the implication of his words, the latch of the door, but then Tommy’s distracting you with the feel of his mouth moving steadily down the slope of your neck. The hold of his lips, the warm wet heat of his mouth as he sucks and licks at your skin.

You feel your mind growing dizzy as you rapidly pull the suspenders off his arms, giving into your own hunger, your palms roaming the contours of the muscles that line his broad shoulders as you do. 

Your body curves into Tommy, your hips creating friction against the seam of his pants as your head pushes harder against the wall. Urging him of on as Tommy pushes you further against it, seducing you, body and soul. 

Your mind torn between the rashness of this decision and the need for him pumping ever harder through your veins. Your hands tug at his shirt and trousers, searching for the warmth of him beneath. Needing to touch him, needing to feel him on your palms and against your skin.

Tommy slips your sweater off your shoulders, his hands as smooth and steady as the fabric slipping free. Letting it fall to floor as his face buries against your newly exposed skin. 

He’s so inquisitive. He needs to explore you. Know you. Discover what makes you tick. You can feel it in the roam of his hands, bunching and fisting at the soft fabric of your slip along the curves of you body as your hands disappear under his shirt in equal interest. 

Touching and caressing, trying to find every spot that makes you gasp and moan. His mouth driven by the same stubborn pursuit. Moving against your body as he works to find just the spot that will makes your knees go slack and his name shutter past your lips like broken prayers you learned in Mass.

That’s the spot. He finds it as a gasp hitches off your breath, his name falling from your lips in an equal pitch, your legs wobble as you clutch onto Tommy as tightly as you can.

“That feel good, love?” Tommy asks, his breath hot and wavering against you as he revels in the high of making you come undone. 

This isn’t what you planned, but all you want is more. The room had been frigid when you came in, the new fire still growing in life, but the embers that seem to burn from Tommy’s hands, the rich heat of his mouth leave all traces of cold slipping from your body as you burn up under his touch.

“You wear this ‘round the house with Finn, eh?” Tommy taunts you, his breath so low and hot against your skin it feels like it can melt you with its radiating heat. 

You have to fight to not let your eyes slip closed, growing drunk off the way his voice only amplifies the power of his touch.

You know who Tommy means - his brother, not your son. A teenage boy who might find the sight of you in nothing more than a night-slip the recipe for hormone fueled fantasies. 

But you recognize what this is really about, it’s that part of Tommy that doesn’t share, that get jealous at the thought of someone else having a glimmer of you, even Finn. Your nails rake against his hips and down along his happy trail in mild retribution before slipping your hands free of his shirt and pushing him back from you.

Your eyes meet as Tommy takes a step back, a twinge of surprise in his gaze from the boldness of your action, but there’s something else lingering in those piercing blues too, a spark that tells you he likes it when you give it as good as you get, that you can be feisty and ill-mannered when the moment warrants. 

A smirk curls at the corner of your mouth, you like this, this game of discovering a whole new layer of each other. It’s exciting and thrilling, and makes you feel alive in a way you haven’t felt in years.

“No one holds hours like you, Tom. Everyone but Polly’s been asleep for hours. So maybe I’m wearin’ it for you…” You tell him boldly, your eyes catching against the faint yellow light that sits on the dresser beside his bed. 

A smirk curls at his lips in approval, sending you biting at your bottom one as your belly coils with a hunger you’re still rediscovering with the power of. The distance between you and Tommy doing nothing to quell the need for him building and mounting inside you.

“Or maybe I’m just wearin’ it.” You throw back as you slowly approach him, the urge to touch him surging through your veins as you reach for the buttons on his shirt and begin to quickly work them free. 

Tommy’s arms envelope you in his strength, filling you with a sense of security and trust you haven’t felt in so long. You feel his hands roam against the shape of your body as you move in close to him. 

His distinct scent filling you as your mouth finds his neck, your lips trailing your fingers only to grow frustrated when his undershirt gets in your way.

“Come ‘ere,” Tommy says quietly, sensing and understanding you in ways you can’t wrap your mind around, his hands cupping your face as he draws your pout back to his lips. 

Softening your frustrations with a kiss that’s tender but greedy as his hands fall to the clinch of your waist, sliding against the smooth fabric of your slip as it rounds your hips and down along your butt, letting your hands finish the task of undoing his shirt in peace.

Tommy helps you pull his button-down off his arms, knowing how eager you are to get rid of it, letting you tug off his undershirt quickly after.

You want to fill your mouth with the taste him, run your tongue against his skin, feel his breath shutter and grip tighten, it’s an urge so demanding it initially surprises you. 

This isn’t who you are, or at least not who you’ve been in a very long time, but with Tommy your quickly discovering parts you thought were unnecessary coming back to life.

Your mouth fills with the distinct salty sweet taste of him as your lips trail his chest with kisses, your tongue stroking slowly against him. Tommy’s arms hold you tight and safe, guiding you both as you move steadily toward his bed. 

But his feet come to an abrupt stop, his heavy breath suddenly unbearably ragged in your ears, his fingers digging deeper into your hair and flesh as your hand slips inside the front of his trousers. 

It’s a powerful feeling, one you’re still coming to grips with. The sense that you have him, all of him, in the palm of your hand. That a man as powerful and feared as Thomas Shelby can your grow weak under your touch.

But Tommy isn’t one to lose control for long as he starts gripping and tugging up your slip. With your last shred of decency rapidly disappearing against the insistence of Tommy’s grip, as your skin meets the cool night air, you take hold of Tommy’s hands, pulling them free of you and take a step back.

Tommy watches you, chest rising and falling heavily with each breath, waiting as you lick your lips and catch his eyes.

“I got no illusions, my eyes are wide open, Tommy.” You tell him, your eyes locked on him as you reach for the straps to your slip, one by one sliding them slowly off your shoulders until the fabric falls free like a feather in the wind, and drops to the floor. 

You watch a lump bob hard in Tommy’s throat as his eyes scan dark and hungerly over your naked body. His hands making quick work of his trousers, dropping what’s left his clothes down around his ankles. You watch his chest rise and fall heavily as his gaze returns to yours, waiting, sensing you aren’t finished.

You take a step toward him, your bare feet creaking on the floorboards, your eyes taking in the perfect symmetry of his body that leaves you hungry and wanting, now more than ever. 

His callused hands reach out for you, beckon you, as Tommy takes a seat on the edge of his bed, the sound echoing through the room as his arms encircling the flesh at your hips and yours tangle in his hair.

“Just don’t play me for a fool, Tommy. That’s all I ask.” Your breath heavy, almost a plea as you gaze into his eyes as if you’re asking for mercy. 

You don’t trust yourself with him like this, not entirely. You’ve played this game before and lost. You can’t do it again. It can’t be like it was before.

Cupping your cheek gently in the warmth of his palm, Tommy pulls you into a slowly burning kiss. The kind that leaves your mind delirious and desires crumbing to this will. When it ends, he rests your head gently against his, his thumb stroking softly at your cheek.

“No lies, Fee.” Tommy whispers on a low husky breath that sinks its teeth in you, his hands slipping to caress your hips as he guides you onto his lap. 

The old bed creaking with the changing in weight as your legs settling on either side of him. You lower down across him on a fluttered breath, skin to skin – soft, warm, and bare. 

Heated silk meeting firm strength as you stare into the bluest eyes you’ve ever known, your body craving the feel of him within – as close as a man can get. A heavy breath slips from both your lips in hunger and anticipation as you gaze into the darkness of his haunting eyes.

“No games.” Tommy swears, his hand stroking along the side of your face and into your hair as he seals his words with a kiss.

The silence is sliced by the sound of Tommy’s heavy breath, rapid and uneven, struggling to find a natural rhythm… Or maybe that’s your own. Mixed and mingled like the dew that lingers on your skin, his and yours. 

Your body’s still buzzes with release, your muscles relaxed from the surge of pleasure, your mind drunk off the rush of endorphins… no one makes you cum like Tommy.

You gaze up at the ceiling, faded paint and chipped plaster as you try to catch your breath. You feel the mattress shift, the springs squeak as Tommy reaches across you for the cigarette case and lighter on the table beside you. 

He catches your eyes, a devilish glint in his heavy gaze he leans back against the pillows beside you.

Your eyes feel heavy from the surge of energy spent and you think it’s time to go before you fall asleep. With Polly in the house now too, you know everyone will know about your little secret if you wake up in Tommy’s bed one more time.

Pulling back the blanket, you rise, swinging your legs over the side as you reach down to the floor for your slip, the boards as cold and bitter on your hand as they are on your feet.

You move to slip it over your head, but you never get that far as you feel Tommy’s hand run gently down the spine of your back. His fingers trailing over every groove, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

“Where ‘re you goin’?” He asks, his voice low from the same level of exhaustion that leaves you feeling nearly drunk. 

The heat of his breath suddenly against your back and shoulder as he rises on the bed. His soft lips finding their way to your shoulder, then the back of your neck as he gently sweeps your hair off to one shoulder.

“I thought you didn’ want anyone to finds us.” You answer honestly. 

Trying hard to keep your breath steady against the feel of Tommy’s soft lips playing tricks on your senses. He shouldn’t have this kind of power over you. Shouldn’t be able to make you weak and hungry with the brush of his lips alone.

You feel Tommy’s hand snake across your bare belly, his rough palm delicious against your soft skin as he slowly draws you back down to the bed beside him. 

Your head reacquaints with the pillows, you gaze up as Tommy fills the space above you. Settling back over you as his arms dig into the pillow on either side your head. The depth of his blue eyes and sharp cheekbones leaving you captive to his will.

“It’s not nearly dawn yet. The boys won’ be up for hours.” Tommy tells you, staring down into your eyes with the magic of his. That magic that sparks like a match, igniting something inside you that yearns for him, calls for him, as if you can’t ever get enough.

As if Tommy hears those unrequited cries, he gently cups your jaw, tilting your chin as he drops down to meet you, killing the hunger building inside you with a kiss. His kiss brief, your mouth left wanting as his lips dip to your chin before moving on, as Tommy takes what he wants and needs from you.

Instinctively, your hands slip along the back of his neck and into his hair. Your back curving up against him as his lips find their way down your throat, curling into him as you let yourself get pulled back under the currents of his desire. 

Your bodies speaking a language he knows all too well. Every stroke, every kiss, every caress, Tommy plays your body like an instrument he’s diligently practiced and mastered for years. But as the moon light creeps in through the window, the thoughts find you, the fear finds you. Clinching at your heart.

It scares you how easy it was to fall into his arms. You were nervous the first time in the bathtub. Unsure of yourself and difference in experience levels, but you couldn’t climb into Tommy’s bed fast enough this time. 

No reservations, no trepidation, just hunger and need. And something else you’re terrified to admit… Heart. You know what you feel for Thomas Shelby, but feeling it and climbing into his bed is a dangerous mix. 

You let him spill inside you again and what scares you even more than that, is the fact that you didn’t want to ask him to stop. Lost in that moment with Tommy as you both come undone at the same time, lost in his eyes, lost in his arms, you didn’t want him to pull away. You wanted him buried within you, connected to you.

But you can’t be that careless and you promised, no lies, no games, no illusions. So as the heat of Tommy’s mouth slips down along your breastbone, chasing his hand as it caresses you, the bud of your nipple already raised against his attention and begging for the warm wet relief of his mouth once again, you know you have to speak up.

Your gaze drifts up to the ceiling for clarity as your hands untangle from his hair. You suck in a deep breath as his mouth finds the delicate spot between your breasts.

“What are we doin, Tommy? Do I kill the loneliness or am I savin’ you money on whores?” You ask boldly, with no apologies.

You feel Tommy’s mouth still against your breast, his breath heavy and thick like dew against your skin. You feel his muscles tense around you, before Tommy slowly rises. 

Hovering over you as he looks down into your eyes with those baby blues and their lethal stare, as if he could suck all the air out of a room, starting with your lungs. You don’t back down. You refuse to as you stare boldly back into his eyes.

“If I just wanted a fuck love I’d go somewhere else.” Tommy answers, his eyes drilling into you far more serious than the easy air that lifts off his breath. 

The sharpness of his cheekbones creating hollows of his eyes. But you meet his challenge and don’t surrender, because you refuse to let Tommy Shelby intimidate you and you need to know. There’s too much at stake here not to know.

“And do you, do you still go somewhere else?” You dare you ask. 

You don’t look away. You gaze only into his eyes. Needing to know if your feelings are ill placed. If this is purely what it is and nothing more. Or if his heart has placed a wager as clearly as your own has.

Tommy stares down at you, the chill of his eyes softening as he begins to understand what you’re asking. What you need to know.

“No” He answers simply.

Tommy doesn’t make declarations of devotion, this you know. You also know your staring into the eyes of a man who has already loved and lost dearly. 

You can never forget what brought you into his life to begin with. A widower who was buckling under the weight of an insurmountable loss while trying to raise his small child. This is uncharted territory for you both.

The weight of his stare, it makes your heart begin to race harder in your chest, but you have to push forward.

“Do you have anyone else, Thomas?” You ask, even though you’re almost afraid to. 

This is a loaded question when you’re asking a man like Thomas Shelby. A man who could have anyone, any time he pleases.

But Tommy sees your fear as he reaches out to gently brush his thumb across your cheek.

“No.” He answers, low and steadfast on his breath. The certainty of his answer sending tingles rippling under your skin.

Overtaken with a feeling, you lean up, kissing his lips short and sweet several times in quick succession, expressing your approval without the confines of words.

Tommy grips at your cheek again, a smile warming on his face as he leans back down to yours.

“That’s nice.” He whispers approvingly before he steals your breath with a long heated kiss that shows you just how much he likes to please you.

You pull Tommy close as he kisses you harder, drawing him back between the hold of your thighs, before you hook your leg against his hip and shift. 

Tackling him onto the bed beneath you, a groan pressing against your lips as it leaves his surprised mouth, the bed moaning loudly in protest.

Your heart beats faster - full and lively as you stare down at him, your hair hanging down around you as your hands skim down along the lines and grooves of his chest and stomach, playing with the hair that bunches at the top.

Tommy gazes up at you, the excitement in your smile like an infection spreading to him as his mouth curls and widens.

“That answer pleases you, does it?” He asks as if he doesn’t already know.

Staring down at the man you love, you nod slowly as you draw your bottom lip between your teeth coyly and rock slowly against him, the way you know he can’t resist. 

It’s a low groan you hear before Tommy takes you by surprise, your hands gripping tightly at his shoulders as he suddenly rises. His arm gaining leverage behind him as the other grips at your hip, his fingers curving into the flesh demandingly as he begins to rock you slowly against him.

“Don’t tease me, love.” The sound of Tommy’s husky breath in your ear as your bodies move and grind dangerously close together. Igniting a fire that has your hands gripping him closer as you fall desperately back to his lips.

When you come downstairs in the morning, you’re pleasantly surprised to see the boys already gathered around the table, eating bread with jam as Polly sips at tea by the heat of the shove. 

You greet your boys warmly, placing a gentle kiss atop both their heads as you tell them good morning. 

The room smells as warm as it feels, a delicious mixture of tea spices and freshly baked bread, you flash Polly a smile of thanks as you take a seat at the table and feel the wood creak as you sit.

“Here drink this.” Polly instructs as you settle in, no question in her tone as she places a steaming cup in front of you on the table surface. 

You thank her for the gesture before drawing the warm cup to your lips and taking a small sip, only to instantly fight the urge to spit it back out as the vile taste burns its way across your tongue and down your throat.

“What is this?” You cough, your eyes watering as they shoot over to Polly by the stove as if she’s trying to poison you.

“An old gypsy recipe. Stops yea from gettin’ pregnant… unless that’s what yer after.” She answers you matter-of-factly, but the probing look in her eyes holds steadily upon you to see what your next move will be.

Without question you hastily draw the cup back to your lips as you hold her gaze. Refusing to breath in the pungent aroma of what’s to come as you quickly sip it down as fast as you can.

“Good,” Polly nods, pleased, before she turns back to her own cup of tea, a far more pleasant brew, you’re sure.

“How did you- Did Tommy-“ You start – fail - and then try again, but still never quite find the right words for what you’re trying to ask, especially with the children at the table too. 

You’re still determined to keep them out of this complicated mess. Everything has been changing so fast in their little worlds lately, you want to keep what normalcy you can. But luckily Polly knows, she always knows.

“He didn’ have to. I practically raised that boy. I’ve heard that distinct sound Thomas’ bed makes enough times, I know what it means.” She says with absolutely candor. 

Her gaze holding yours boldly as you blush around your tea cup. Reminding you of what you already knew, very little gets past Polly.

“What’s pregnant?” Charlie’s high pitch voice picks up from the table, pulling your attention away from Polly and onto the little toe head across from you.

Your mind quickly attempts to formulate a proper answer for a child so young when Finn, precocious as he is, beats you to it.

“It’s when you have a baby in your tummy. When I was little we lived with aunt Nan – she wasn’ my real aunt, but mum said I could call her that. She always had a baby in her tummy.” Finn explains as if he has the answers for everything and considers himself wise beyond his years compared to Charlie, even though the boys are barely three years apart.

His big green eyes turn onto you next from across the table with a clever look in his eyes that makes your mouth run dry. 

“You havin’ a baby mum?”

“Where do babies come from?” Charlie spits out at almost the exactly same moment and suddenly you find yourself choking on the vile tea as if it went down the wrong pipe. 

Coughing hard, you try to dislodge the liquid from the wrong pipe as you hastily place your cup of tea back down onto the table before you spill it. 

Not missing the smirk of amusement growing on Polly’s face before she sips quietly at her tea, leaving you to handle this one.

“Well aren’t you curious boys this morning.” Tommy’s voice fills the room, sending your startled eyes shooting his way as you try to stop the coughing fit that’s overtaken you.

“No one’s havin’ a baby, Finn. An’ that’s a conversation for another time, Charlie.” Tommy answers for you, taking command of the situation like he prefers to.

“Why don’t you boy go on upstairs and finish getting dressed before you give Ms. Fiona a heart attack.” Tommy instructs with a swing of his cap, pointing the boys toward the stairs. “Go on.”

The boys obey him as they always do, taking off for the stairs as if everything they do together is a chance to see who’s the fastest, the smartest, the bravest.

Leaving you, Tommy, and Polly in the kitchen with air awkward and thick enough you could cut it with a knife.

“Mornin’ Pol,” Tommy says, with a tip of his head as he places on his cap before pulling on his favorite leather gloves, cordial, but formal as ever.

“Thomas,” She responses with an equal nod, meeting his gaze as boldly as he delivers it. 

The tension between them only amplified by the embarrassing context of the conversation he just stumbled into. Leaving no confusion about what is and isn’t known concerning yours and Tommy’s nightly dalliance.

“Ms. Fiona,” He finally acknowledges you. That look in his icy blue eyes both powerful and captivating as it is brief.

But the smile that curls ever so slightly at the corner of his mouth when you call his name in return makes your heart skip a beat.

“Alright then, I’m headed to the office.” He announces to you both, his eyes scanning over each of you and for a moment you could almost pretend things were as they use to be when he’d leave bright and early for the factory, but nothing is as it used to be.

“Don’t leave the house without taking one of the men with you. I don’t want you an’ the boys going out alone, understood.” He insists, before turning for the door without another word.

You stare down at your tea and bite at your bottom lip as you listen to the front door close. Tommy pays you little mind during the day, when the others are around. At first it confused you, even stung a bit, but then you understood. 

He’s determined to keep you safe, which to Tommy means keeping you at arm’s length and also under his thumb, even when the truth of your ever-evolving relationship is right in his face. 

But you’ve come to realize it’s more than that too. After Grace, Tommy never wanted someone again, not someone who mattered, who got near that heart he wishes he didn’t have. You don’t know what you and Tommy are, but you can see, a part of it scares him. 

And in that way, you understand. It scares you too. After Tony, you gave up on love. It became something you thought was silly and childish. Your focus was survival, a task hard enough, but when you’re with Tommy things are different. You feel alive again. And you can see in his eyes, he does too… 

Neither of you quite know what to make of that.

“I’ll leave a tin full of the minced herbs in the back of the cupboard.” Polly says, drawing your attention away from your thoughts and back to the moment. 

She waits for your eyes to meet hers before she moves to the seat across from you at the table and finishes.

“Every morning before you eat. Don’t forget. It can stop it from happening, but it can’t remedy anything you’ve already let take hold, understood?” She holds your gaze, awaiting confirmation before you slowly nod. 

Every morning, before you eat, or you’re fucked – Got it.

“Good,” Polly answers, leaning back against the chair, the old wood moaning in protest as she sparks up a cigarette.

“I do hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.” She says, taking a long pull of her smoke as it dangles off her long elegant fingers. 

Her eyes watching you carefully. You hold her gaze for a moment and swear you see a touch of softness in her iris, or maybe it’s just pity as you hastily gulp down what’s left of your tea as if your life depends on it.


	9. In The Bleak Midwinter || Part 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter really sets the stage for next chapter, an unfortunate turn of events for our duo. But things are never simple in the Peaky Blinders world, and they certainly weren’t easy for women in the 1920′s.

Everything changes after there’s an attempt made on Arthur’s life. Three men sent to murder him in his own factory. Factory workers unlocking the back door for the Italians to slip in. 

If Arthur wasn’t so brutal when necessary, so capable… God only knows how many Shelby’s would be left.  

A close call like that changes everything…

Tommy reveals his real plan for the Italians to you in the dead of night, when the fog is thickest. Before the birds have begun their morning song, the moon high in the sky, while the rest of the family sleeps. 

The thin blankets of his bed having replaced the cozy heat of the fire that filled the study back at Arrow house, where they first discovered each other. The old lumpy mattress replacing his plush handcrafted furniture you’d settle into for a long conversation about the day. 

The feel of Tommy’s body so intimately entangled with your own replacing the space that use to sit comfortably between you. Nothing is as it was before you returned to Birmingham. Your nightly conversations now punctuated by nightly trysts. 

No, nothing is as it was before…

“Aren’t you going to tell me to get away from all this?” Tommy asks, staring deep into your eyes as you curve against the warmth of his flesh.

“It’s not mine to draw you away from Tommy. It’s a matter of what you want. Whatever it is, I’ll support it, but the choice is yours to make.” You tell him softly before you lean in for a gentle kiss. 

You grew up watching your mother try and pull your father away from dirty business, but you knew it was as useless as trying to catch the wind. All her talk of sin, right and wrong, that it’ll cost them everything and everyone one day. 

None of that was news to your father. It all already weighed heavily upon him. What he needed was her acceptance. Her acceptance of who he was, the man she married. Maybe then the truth would have found him on his own. 

You’re determined not repeat her mistakes.

It’s is here that you learn the truth. Where the intoxication of your lips draws the truth out of Tommy. 

It is here, lying in his arms, warmed by the heat of his flesh and the way you can’t seem to keep your hands off each other, that you learn the real plan for Luca Changretta. Not Mr. Gold and his unapologetic savagery. Not Arthur and his bullet with a name written on it.

But rather, Tommy in an ambush he already knows is coming. Out manned and possibly out gunned, confident he can take the upper hand. A rouse Polly’s fully entangled in, the wheels already set in motion for, and he hasn’t told a soul, but you.

Tommy’s eyes pierced into you as the faint light on his bedside table casts shadows across his face. His gaze sinking hooks only his cheekbones, as sharp as the blades on his cap, could cut. 

His eyes like madness and open for your judgement. Waiting to see if you’d cower and break against the suicide mission he’s set into motion.

But you don’t break. You don’t even blink. Even as your heart curls in on itself. You know it’s a test. You asked for the truth. Insisted you could handle it, so Tommy waits to see if that is true.  

You stare into his eyes as if he hasn’t dropped a bolder onto your heart. As if he hasn’t sucked the air right out of your lungs. 

You stare unwavering back into those broken blue eyes as if he hasn’t planted a seed that leaves you desperate to do something.

But from that moment forward, you know what you have to do…

* * *

You spend most of your days with Polly. She runs the betting shop and you help where you can when the boys don’t occupy your time. 

You enjoy your time with her. This woman who pulled you off the streets, gave you a better life. She’s strong, but still kind. Out spoken and fearless, you admire her greatly. 

Tommy leaves for work early and comes home late, but there’s nothing new in that unrelenting routine. As familiar to you as the tireless way the sun always rises in the east and sets in the west, unwavering predictability.

It’s early morning and you find yourself growing accustom once again to the smell of burning coal thick in the air from the chimneys and factories all around. Heavy and moist as it mixes with the lingering morning fog. 

You find you’re growing reacquainted with the soot that covers everything around here. Growing familiar with the hollers and hustle that fill the street just beyond your door.

Even the betting shop is cozier than the squalor you and Finn lived in when you called Birmingham your home before. This home, Tommy’s home, it reminds you of the first place you lived after leaving your family home. 

Your mother’s aunt Brona, or at least that’s who your father said she was. A small dwelling on a poor street. Filled with the chill of the night and the noise on the street. 

But it was shelter from the storm, a warm hand at your cheek, and for that you were grateful – young and pregnant, scared and alone in a world far bigger than your sheltered life alluded to. 

You had Finn in that house. Screaming for mercy or death as you stared at the old faded flower wallpaper until you heard his first cries. Sometimes you still miss that place. But this one fills the void…

Outside it’s still cold from winter, but inside dining room at the oval table by the stove, the burning fire keeps the space warm and toasty, as long as the doors to the betting shop remain closed. 

Your eyes glance absently at the china set that contrasts the dark wood of the hutch, making the porcelain and faint water colors standout. You wonder, silently to yourself, if those pieces belong to Polly or Tommy’s mother. And realize you know next to nothing about the woman who brought the man you love into this world.

“Like this, Mum?” Charlie asks in a voice high like the call of a bird. His big eyes gazing up at you from the table, stealing your attention back.

You gaze down at him with a warm smile. Run your hand gently over his head. He knows you’re not his mom, but he likes to test you. 

You also think he likes to test the word off his lips. You know it can’t be easy being a boy who doesn’t say mom, in a sea of boys who constantly call theirs.

Gazing over the math problem you’ve presented him with, you lean down close and place a gentle kiss atop his golden locks.

“Fiona, my sweet boy.” You gently correct him, because the lines are clearly blurred. 

You love him like he’s your own. Would die for him in heartbeat, but you didn’t bring him into this world either and you don’t want to overstep your bounds.

“And excellent work on your numbers. Try the next.” You praised him

You glance up to spot Polly drying the last few pots and dishes over by the sink from breakfast. You offer your boys a nod to continue with their lesson as the urging in your heart tells you it’s time to do what you must. 

You’ve mulled it over thoroughly and your mind is definitively made up. Moving a slow breath past your lips, you smooth down your skirt to steady your nerves.

You approach her, lean against the table beside the oven that holds various cooking odds and ends strewn about, the pots hanging high around your shoulders as you try not to knock into them.

“I know a business man who could help us with the American problem. I- I know how this game works Pol and we need more than just Tommy’s plan for a one-man army.” You tell her on a low casual breath. Trying not to stir the boys’ attention. 

“Surely you agree?“

“So I’ve heard. Thomas mentioned there’s more to you than meets the eye. Far more than the poor little runner thrown to the mercy of the streets when I found yeah.” Polly counters, her voice neutral, but her words sharp. Making it clear she knows your secret little past, and the deception you weaved.

With reflection, you’ve come to realize your life has always been tangled with dirty business, through and through. 

As a child you were blind to it, shielded from it. It was only as a youth that you began to see the wheeling’s of your father’s work and the company he kept, but even then, it wasn’t a choice. You were a bystander to a board game far bigger than yourself.

The second time you found yourself tangled in dirty business your eyes were wide open, but your belly empty and your heart desperate. It was easy money, easy money that fed your child, kept shelter over him. 

Those were the excuses you made, but you know your actions should have weighed more heavily on your soul. When Polly found you, you were a runner. 

Betting slips and cash mostly, sometimes stolen goods or weapons. You often didn’t look at what you were carrying. Didn’t want to know. 

The baby carriage was brought to you, your job was simply to get it from point A to point B without arousing suspicion. Easy enough, just a young mother taking her infant for a stroll. And you certainly weren’t the only woman on the job. 

When work ran low, you found yourself being thrown from the room you and Finn were staying in.

That’s when Polly found you, ruthless landlord throwing what little you had onto the mud of the streets. Threatening to report you to the authorities for the way you were raisin your boy.  Polly saved you.

But you’ve learned a great deal from her since spending most days together on Watery lane. 

So you don’t apologize and you don’t cower. You figure she ought to recognize those traits, as you push forward.

“This man, he has connections with the mafia in America. I want to set a meeting with him. I know he’ll see me…” You tell her, but when she hardly glances your way, you persist, trying not to grow frustrated. A persistence that has served you well as much as it has pained you in this life.  

“We need this, Pol.”

She glances up briefly from her work, catching your eyes as she continues to straighten up the kitchen so bugs don’t find reason to settle in. 

“Then why are you tellin’ me?” Polly answers back.

You bite your lip, because you see now she’s going to make you say it. Polly doesn’t give an inch if she doesn’t want to. You admire that about her, unless you’re on the receiving end of it. 

So, say it you shall. Tucking a fray strand of hair that’s fallen loose from your braid behind your ear, you move closer to her, your voice dropping low.

“Because Tommy won’t like it. He’ll be worried it’ll put me at risk. Which we both know means he won’t listen. That’s why I need your support. He listens to you.” You admit, setting aside all pretenses of pride. 

You need Polly’s support on this if you have any chance of it coming to pass. She’s the only one who has a prayer of getting through to Tommy when he becomes unmovable.

“Because he’s loves you.” Polly says, her hands still busy, but her voice certain. There’s no question. Only insight and wisdom.

Your cheeks redden as the room suddenly grows warm despite the frigid winter air blowing outside, seeping in through the cracks in the walls. 

You and Tommy have never said such things to each other. What little you have shared has been vague, but understood. 

But love? You’ve already had love, so has Tommy, and it blew away like the weightless flakes of ash after the fire has nearly turned them to dust.

“I wouldn’t say that-“ You fluster and hesitate, fussing with the length of your skirt, brushing it down to ease the fidget of your hands.

That’s when Polly snaps like a rope pulled too tight. She tosses the wash rag from her hand, snapping your attention, her task forgotten as her eyes blaze suddenly upon you.

“Say it. If you don’t others will and they’ll use it against you and him. Don’t ever give other people that kind of ammunition. And certainly not now. Not in times like this.” She orders, no ounce of question on her breath as the wild breath of her eyes demands it.

You hold her gaze, seeing the insistence on her breath mirrored in her eyes as the word echoes in your head and shudder down your spine – love. 

You swallow hard and look away. Your gazing falling to the twisting of your hands. You don’t know what to say to her. You don’t know what to think. 

Every night it’s the touch of his hands that ease your worries. The heat of his body that keeps your warm. The rhythm of his breath that holds you steady. 

You know what you feel… But Tommy… It’s complicated. He’s complicated. Even more so than yourself and that’s something.

“How do you know this man?” Polly speaks up again, drawing the conversation back to its start. 

The redirection refocuses your mind and your thankful for the distraction from words and emotions bigger than you’re ready to conquer. 

You turn to answer her when you hear a creak of the chair. All the moans and groans of the old furniture proving to be more useful than you previously thought. 

You glance over at your boys and instantly meet Finn’s eyes. He holds your gaze, but only for a moment before they dart back down to his page of numbers.

He always was your clever boy. Clever, brave, and smart in a way that was both a blessing and a curse as his mother. 

You only wish you had been older. He deserved a mother who wasn’t still stumbling and growing up herself. But It gives you hope for his future, the man he’ll become, but for now it means you must always be on your toes. 

For now, he is still just a boy. A curious boy you now see is trying to eavesdrop on a conversation not meant for little ears, let alone his.

“Alright boys, that’s enough of your numbers for now. Finn, I want you an’ Charlie to go into the front room. Take the book Miss Polly got you and practice reading to Charlie. Charlie, try your hand at the small words. Sound ‘em out like we practiced, aye?” You instruct, your tone kind, but unquestioning as you move to the table to gather up their paper and pencils, motioning them into the room just off the dining room. 

A cozy space with a couch and a fireplace that leads out to the front of Watery Lane, not used for the betting shop. Another example of the strange conversion between work and home in this place you’ve grown to accept.

Once the boys are out of the room and earshot, you turn back to Polly, moving slowly for her.

“He’s Finn’s uncle. His father’s brother.” You explain. 

The mere mention of Al stirring up ghosts from a past that some days feels like lifetimes ago. Who you were then and who you are now almost unrecognizable.

Polly meets your gaze, unsatisfied with an answer she can see holds more.

“And…” Pol pries.

A small smile curls ever so briefly at the corner of your mouth, nothing gets past her. Where Tommy can be appeased at times, Polly always sees through the veil to what lies just past it.

“An’ after Finn’s father died, he agreed to marry me. Our parents thought it was a wonderful idea. Next suitable option sort of thing… But I refused.” You admit, letting your mind linger and dance among memories from a time when life felt impossibly hard and unfair, before you knew what either of those words actually meant.

 When you still had to luxury of being naive. Lost in the endlessness of your grief and hopeless plight.

“An’ why didn’t you want to marry this man?” Polly’s words fill your ears as you gaze off at that antique hutch and the mysterious china set it holds.

Your heart tightens with an ugly truth. The kind that sits heavy on your chest, settling somewhere closer around your belly as you dredge up old memories. 

No, not memories. Stories. Tales Tony told you about this brother. The kind of man he was and the reasons Tony couldn’t stand him. Never wanted to be like him. His ruthlessness, his appetite for humiliating girls unfortunate enough to fall in his trap.

“I didn’t love him.” You tell her, the words falling numbly from you lips. Never meeting her gaze, you remind yourself that isn’t a lie. You couldn’t stand him.

Polly shakes her head and sparks a cigarette, you catch the movement out of your periphery;

“You’re a more sensible girl than that. Why?” She presses, and you can see now this is the price, the price if you want Polly’s support. She’s requires the truth and nothing less.

Al fills your mind. Memories of him from your youth. He was never cruel to you like you knew him to be to others. 

But the way he would look at you… The way it made you feel as it settled on your skin… 

The disgust he invoked in Tony… The way Tony never wanted you alone with him… 

It’s your belly that tightens this time as you finally let yourself admit you’ll be walking into a lion’s den, unarmed and unguarded. Meeting with a man you humiliated for turning down his offer, especially given your circumstance. 

A man who’s notorious for making others pay. Al was nothing like Tony. Not then, and surely not now with money and power to feed his depravity. 

But you tell yourself, perhaps he’s changed… With time… With wisdom, but the feeling in your gut seems unconvinced.

“Because he’s done terrible things, he’s a gangster and I didn’t want that life.” You tell a half truth. That was part of the reason. Not the only one, but you need Polly’s support, so you choose your words wisely.

A light huff lifts off her chest and garners the attention of your eyes as they drift to her once again.

“And yet, here you are.”

You hold her gaze. Clear, focused, and all knowing. You want to tell her Tommy isn’t like him, but you both know that isn’t entirely true. 

You swallow hard and bury the past, prepare for the future, for what’s the come, what you have to do, as you concede to the irony of it all.

“…And yet, here I am.”

* * *

The conversation goes exactly as you predicted. Tommy is unreasonable. He won’t have any of it. 

As soon as he hears word of you meeting alone with another man to broker a connection between enterprises, he flies off the handle. 

The walls echo with enough, “bloody hell” and “fuck”, you’re sure the boys will be saying it through snickers amongst themselves for weeks. Even tucked up in their beds, Tommy’s voice held range. 

You had hoped Polly’s wisdom, her persuasion would help, but you could see as Tommy’s eyes landed upon you, fire blazing at his side, the dancing of the flames in his pupil as he looked at you in a way that made Polly’s words stir in your mind, he wasn’t going to budge.

He seems surprised when you find him that night. As if he’s surprised you’re not angry and stewing. But on the contrary, you feel like you may better understand what he feels for you in all his stubborn strife. 

The true colors revealed in the raw look of his eyes standing beside that fire, gazing at you with determination, like he can’t bear to lose you too. 

You find yourself telling and revealing your truths with the stroke of your hands against his tired flesh. Roaming the slopes and grooves of his body that have grown familiar to your touch.  

Inhaling his heavy breath with the taste of him, only to release it out against his waiting lips in a breathy sigh barely contained within these thin faded walls. 

Your head resting gently against his, lost in the depth of his eyes as if you can’t get close enough. A world all your own as you move like one - from your pupils down past your thighs, giving and receiving love. 

Your arms clasped around him as he holds you equally close, all around you, deep within you, as if he’s buried a seed so deep a part of him will always be with you. 

Until the moment crests like the rise of the sun at midday – hot and blinding as you burn up under it’s unrelenting fire, before you slowly come back down together like the setting sun, drifting away under the gentle glow of midnight.

* * *

You’ve never been to Tommy’s office before. Polly had to tell you how to find it. 

But you can’t say your surprised by how fancy the interior is.  Tall ceilings with windows scattered along the length of one wall to let the light cascade and shine in. 

Fours desk, you count them. All a beautiful rich wood, like the desks and drawers that keep things organized, like the paneling that lines the walls. 

Tommy likes wood, you’ve come to know this. The sweeping lines, rippled like waves on the sea - knotted for character, smooth and polished for class. The floor is softened by a rug bigger than the size of your room.

Your eyes stare about in wonder. Sweeping over the space until Lizzie greets you. She’s always kind, pleasant, but you’ve noticed lately there’s something different in her eyes when she watches you. 

You can’t pinpoint it. Can’t quite place your finger on what it is, and sometimes you wonder if it’s just all in your head. Until she turns back to you, leading you to into Tommy’s private office and your eyes meet. 

No, there’s something different there.

“Miss Fiona’s here to see you Tom.” She announces as you follow slowly behind her. Unsure of how Tommy will take your surprise visit. 

You’ve never discussed the boundaries of your welcome. You haven’t discussed much of what you should lately outside the tight confines of his bed made for one or the quiet moments that can be stolen on Watery Lane while the rest of the house is too busy to notice. All your attention has been fraught with keeping alive.

Your eyes sweep briefly over his impressive office, before the sight of Tommy rising quickly from the seat behind his desk catches your eye.

“The boys?” He inquires without hesitation. 

The question warms your heart in the subtlest of ways. Not my boy, not Charlie – the boys. You love the way he’s welcomed Finn so completely into the fold of his heart that he doesn’t even notice when he’s lumping them together as if they could both be his.

Your eyes meet as you quickly register the mounting worry in his gaze to seeing you without the children.

“With Polly.” You quickly reassure, tone even, but there’s no denying you’re trying to quell the concern in the ice of his eyes.

You watch him nod - satisfied, before his attention shoots to Lizzie, a silent exchange passes, before she nods too and turns for the door. 

Tommy steps away from his desk and moves steadily around to the front toward you. The office is enormous and yet, Tommy has this way of filling space and holding your attention captive whenever he’s near. 

A man larger than life. It’s quite an impressive feat, one you’re sure has served him well as he plays games with men who feed on and devour power.

You watch as he glances past your shoulder on his approach. 

“Who brought you?” Tommy asks, eyes searching through the glass panes of his office doors.

“No one, I came myself.” You answer honestly, but the way his heated eyes dart to you almost as soon as the words leave your breath tells you how much Tommy loathes that idea.

“I’m just the nanny, Tom.” You remind him gently. Earning yourself a quick scoff off his chest as he rolls his eyes toward the ceiling beams of his office in agitation.

His jaw tightens as his gaze falls back onto you, as tight as the way his broad shoulders tense and seem to lengthen with your response.

He pinches at your chin, not roughly, but firmly as he stares down into your eyes as if you’re about to receive a reprimand.

“You don’t go out alone, understood? Not with Changretta’s men everywhere.”

You hold his gaze, his words stern, his grip insisting, but it’s fear you see pricking at the corners of his icy eyes. 

He’s under so much pressure, between losing John and now nearly Arthur too. You see it in his eyes, he needs to feel like you’re safe. 

So you concede, you’re goal wasn’t to cause his heart more strife than it already carries.

His hand falls from your face as quickly as he turns away from you. Moving over for the liquor cabinet he keeps well stoked any place he regularly roams. Bad habits, ill managed coping strategies, you remember all too well from your brother after the war.

“You know why I’ve come, Tommy. You know what we need to discuss.” You say to his back and watch as his shoulders grow rigid and tense before your eyes, as his hand suddenly steadies on the bottle, frozen mid glass. 

Stuck in a moment, before he finishes pouring himself a drink and tosses it back as if you hadn’t said anything at all.

You’re eyes scan his office giving him a moment. More wood, dark and rich like the forest after nightfall. Gorgeous and eerie all in the same breath. 

Your eyes scan over the paintings - horses, more than you can count and a small smile curls at the corner of your mouth with the sight of them – He does love those beautiful creatures.

What wall space that isn’t covered in wood or paintings holds books. Books you have to resist taking a closer look at. You wonder if he’s read them, you imagine he hasn’t. 

The light that floods in through the tall blinds softens the dark hues that harden the space and warms your skin as it shines down on it. The office, all of it, makes the message abundantly clearly – Thomas Shelby is a man of status. 

And for the briefest of moments you wonder how you, a woman who’s fallen so far from grace could ever catch his eye.

Your eyes turn back to Tommy, but he still hasn’t moved. His stubbornness can be infuriating, but then you’re reminded of the intent behind it. 

The familiar undercurrents born out of so much loss. It’s familiar to you, Tommy’s often cold and off-putting demeanor. You had to learn to navigate it with your brother on roads that felt as bumpy as poorly laid cobblestone. But driven by love - learn you did. 

That’s how you and Tommy got on so well at Arrow house. Out where it was just you, and the boys, and the vast open country. 

Before things grew complicated as they often due when work involves vengeance and hungers of the flesh are introduced.

You crave this new depth of your relationship, your partnership, whatever it may be. Desire to know Tommy in all his intricacies, like a traveler discovering a new land. 

But you’ve found as new things are revealed, some of the old slip back into the shadows, not as shiny and bold as what was being discovered. Like your ability to recognize what his distance means, his stonewall and why he mounts it. 

So you beckon the old out of the shadows, drawing it near like an old trusted friend as you slowly move toward him, stopping at his side to face him.

He doesn’t look at you and you don’t need him to as you watch Tommy stare down into his empty glass.

“We’ve already lost John. They went after Arthur in his factory. We’re running out of options here, Tommy. The only thing that’ll make them back down is a bigger threat. We need help.” You begin, your words steady, sure. 

You aren’t afraid to tell him what you know, but you aren’t trying to spook him with the brutal truth either. For surely, he must already know this.

You watch Tommy’s icy blues suddenly shift to you, taking hold of you like the grip of his unrelenting hands.

“No, no fuckin way.” He states unequivocally like he had the night before. A mountain with peaks high up in the heavens. A glorious, beautiful wonder to look upon, an unmovable beast.

But you aren’t deterred, because you know what this is, you recognize it from your brother… A man who’s seen too much. Lost too much. He can’t bear to lose more. 

He holds on tight with a crushing grip, convinced he if doesn’t let it slip through his fingers, nothing bad can happen to it. Overwhelmed by a world so out of control, so full of horrors, he strangles what he can get ahold of, trying to keep it safe.

You look him dead in the eyes, reaching out for him as you speak.

“I know you’re scared, Tommy. I’m scared too. I’ve lost every man I ever loved. I can’t sit around and wait to see if I‘ll lose you too. I can’t.” You confess, your heart spilling past your lips. 

You watch a shift in his eyes with your choice of words. You said it, the big one, and you aren’t going to take it back. He needs to know what’s at stake here for you too.

You watch his jaw flex tightly as his eyes soften just a pinch under your words. 

“Then I’ll meet with him,” Tommy holds steadfast.

You reach out for him. Your thumb running gently along the tightening of his jaw, softening the tension that holds there.

“He won’t see you. With his connection to Sabini, it’s too risky… I can do this, Tommy. I’m just making the connection. A business proposal. You’ll handle the rest…. I can do this.” You speak softly to him. 

A pressure as gentle and reassuring as the touch of your hand. The thought of what your begging his permission for terrifies you. 

But losing him terrifies you more. Losing Polly, Arthur, Finn. Besides your boys, they’re all you have in this world. 

And Tommy… foolhardy or not, you’d walk through fire for him. It’s what you do for love.

Tommy stares back into your eyes unblinking. His breath heavy as you watch a war wage in his eyes. The air in the room thickens, the temperature slowly rises as the ticking of the clock on the wall seems to grow slower by the second. 

It feels like forever before he speaks, but it was worth the wait and you would have held out longer if that’s what it took.

“You’re not going alone. I’m sending some of the boys with you. And yer takin a fuckin gun.” Tommy concedes on a heated agitated breath, his jaw still flexing beneath your fingertips. 

Turmoil heavy in the hollows of his eyes. He hates this. Absolutely loathes it, but in the end, he knows your right.

You feel his hand find your face, gripping it in his palm as a breath huffs heavily past his lips and a fear you so rarely see surfaces in his eyes.

“Fuck,” Tommy breathes out hard, unable to leave the sight of you as the battle over this decision and the grief it gives him continues to wage on inside him.

With the sight of his fear, you go to him. Wrapping him into your arms, holding him tight as your face burrows against his shoulder.

It takes Tommy a moment, but slowly you feel his arms find their way around you. His hands gripping and fisting at you tight.

“If something were to happen to you…” He breathes heavily into your hair.

You shake your head against his shoulder with reassurance even as your own heart suddenly grows tight. What you’re going to do, what you’re walking into isn’t safe, but that’s a price you’re willing to pay.

“I’m strong. It’s one of the things you love about me.” You tell him softly. You won’t lie to him. 

Even if you won’t reveal everything you know either. But you do reveal what you see in his eyes. The way he looks at you. What it tells you and Tommy doesn’t correct you on your assumption.

A movement catches your sight and you spot Lizzie standing outside the office door through the window as you quickly pull back. 

Meeting his gaze, you fight the blush on your cheeks as a smirk curls at the corner of his. Your eyes drop as you smooth down your sweater, before they dart back up to his with a spark of life, the same fire dancing silently in his.

“I’ll see you tonight.” You whisper, before you slip past him and move for the door.

By the time you turn to leave Lizzie was gone. You find her back by her desk when you exit Tommy’s office. 

Tall, slender, and elegant behind a large mahogany desk. She doesn’t look at you, her eyes buried in the papers on her desk. 

So you move by without a word, but you don’t get far, before her voice is at your back.

“I wondered why Tommy wasn’t requestin’ whores anymore…”

Her words ring in your ears and shudder down your spine as you slowly turn back to meet her waiting gaze. 

You always liked Lizzie. You two had a sort of working alliance during Tommy’s loneliest days, while he was shunned from the family. 

But you’re no fool and neither is she. You know Lizzie loves Tommy. That was a truth that became apparent to you early on.

“Lizzie…” You struggle and fumble, unsure what to say.

“He always did have a weakness for pretty things.” She beats you to the punch, her eyes chilling with the spite of her words. 

You hold her gaze, even as it shines at you - steady and cold. She’s hurt, you think. She has every right to be. Unrequited love is a brutal burden to bear. 

Knowing your words would only make it worse, you offer her a nod and leave. Knowing there’s nothing you could say that would ease the sting on her heart.


	10. In The Bleak Midwinter || Part 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Questionable consent, coercion, assault, trauma, misogyny.
> 
> This is the most intense chapter of this entire story and it deals with some very tough issues. Please do not read this or feel free to stop at any time if you feel it will trigger you, or it’s too upsetting. I was determined to write this as raw and honest as possible or not write it at all. With that said I also chose to leave a lot of specifics out, because I wanted to leave it up to you as the reader to decide what happened.
> 
> Likes and Comments make my day. But feedback is really appreciate, especially on a hard topic like this. Thank you!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And if you want to add another layer to the experience, this is what I listen to while writing the meeting with Al...  
> https://youtu.be/FoQteIvtOPA

Your day starts at dawn, when the first morning rays kiss across the sky, stabbing shards of light down old soot covered streets and alleyways, edging at windows, long before they reach rooftop peaks. You lie in his arms. Warmed by his flesh, calmed by his scent, safe in his arms.

You steady yourself. Mentally preparing for what you have to do and all the many ways it could unfold. But if that’s the price to keep him alive, whatever it may be, you’ll pay it. Turning your cheek into his chest, you kiss his skin softly and whisper to him in the dark.

“I love you Tommy. I hope you remember that when this day is through.”

He doesn’t hear you, he’s still fast asleep. That’s why you say it now. You’ve never said it before, but you need him to know, if only in his dreams.

He murmurs something, the hand at your back squeezing you tighter as his other lazily drags down your body, hooking on the back of your thigh that’s draped over him, tugging you further against him, practically across him. He does this sometimes, pulls you closer in his sleep, needing you nearer to him. That unconscious need warms your heart and fuels your courage as you snuggle closer to him and let your eyes fall closed once again

 

* * *

 

He fills you with a sense of unease even on approach. The kind of feeling that makes your hair stand on end and your belly tighten. Your senses heightened, but still you push your feet forward to the bar he stands besides, waiting for you. Tall, dark, and handsome in a finely tailored suit, crisp shiny new shoes, and dead eyes to match his cold ruthless heart. He greets you with a smile that does nothing to quell the unrest churning inside you. Does nothing to disguise who he is, what he is.

Your instincts know even as you try to pretend he’s an old friend. Your instincts can’t be deceived, but still you smile back and play the part. Letting him pull you in for a hug, refusing to flinch as his hand skims down along your body without permission before he releases you. He tells you you look beautiful and you force yourself to smile as you thank him.

You share a drink, you have two, as you ease into an unsteady conversation. Your hands fidget uneasily with the crystal glass as you force yourself to return your eyes to him frequently, as you force yourself to pretend to be engaged and interested. The liquor in your glass slowly softening the knots twisting in your belly, numbing your senses, numbing the truth.

You ask about the welfare of his family. You grew to care dearly for his mother. While she was none too pleased with you when you became pregnant, everything changed after Tony died. She sought you out after you were disowned, desperate to meet Finn. The circumstance of his birth irrelevant to a grieving mother who knew Finn was all that remained of her youngest son.

Al prefers to talk about himself, which comes as little surprise to you. His enterprises in Brooklyn, his homes and fancy cars. He always did need the world to think highly of him.

You nod and smile, pretend to be impressed, but none of that matters you to. The worth of a man’s soul carries more weight in your heart than the pounds kept in his personal safe.

You don’t stop him when he finds little reasons to touch you, down your arm, across your hand, a strand of hair behind your ear, even as your skin crawls and the tiny voice inside your head echoes in the distance – run.

You sit there, like a good girl. Giving him what he wants as the ones you’re doing this for never stray far from your mind. They feed your courage, your driving force to carry on.

The inquiry about expanding enterprises in America transitions smoothly enough given you’re a woman and you know he believes women couldn’t possibly have anything to contribute in that arena. You know all too well, this is a man’s world. Most men wouldn’t give a damn about your opinions on business like Tommy does. Al offers you a third drink, but you graciously decline.

“It’s true, I have a business partner in Chicago who’s lookin to move into the liquor business in New York. Prohibition has business booming, an’ he’s lookin’ for a direct distributer. Someone who’s shipments won’t be searched at the docks. If Mr. Shelby is as good a business man as they say he is then perhaps they can work something out.” He says smoothly, with an air of conceit as if the matter is surely more complex than a woman could ever understand.

Finishing the last of his drink in one long gulp, he places the crystal glass down on the shiny marble bar and leans in close, his mouth a breath from the shell of your ear as his hand runs slowly down the length of your back.

“Why don’t we finish this upstairs.” He suggests boldly.

Your eyes close and an icy shiver runs down your spine. Every instinct inside of you wants to squirm away from him, but you fight against it as you slowly turn toward his face. Just a breath away, you look into his cold dead eyes.

“The number?” You question, as you breathe slow, focused, and forced. As you deny every instinct inside your body.

“In my room.” He smiles, that creepy toothy grin that feels more sinister than it does inviting.

Your insides tremble. You aren’t a whore. Through everything, all the struggles, the battle to survive, that was the one thing you promised yourself you wouldn’t be. You couldn’t. And thankfully your always managed to escape that level of desperation. But here you are. And this is all you have to give in exchange for the lives of the ones your love. The question echoes in your mind – What would you give to keep them alive? What would you sacrifice?

Your heart begins to race in your chest. An apprehension not even the booze can dull.

“He’ll be expecting Tommy’s call?” You ask, your voice wavering ever so slightly at the end. Tipping your hand to how nervous you really are.

Al eyes you carefully, his eyebrow slowly raising in question as those dark eyes probe into you.

“Tommy?” He questions, taunting you.

Your heart suddenly pounds unbearably hard in your chest. You slipped. Not your boss. Not Mr. Shelby. Tommy. Your Tommy. And you can see in his eyes your mistake only confirms what he already suspected.

“Mr. Shelby.” You choke out, trying to correct it even though the damage is already done.

Al reaches for your face and this time you can’t stop the way you flinch when he touches you. Undeterred he grips at your cheek harder. His thumb dragging heavily against your skin.

“You always were such a good girl for the men you love. And the rest of us…” He whispers to you mercilessly, his eyes digging and picking at that barrier you try to keep him out with.

But his words terrify you. They remind you that no matter how hard you try to pretend, you aren’t old friends. You may be the one thing he wanted that despite his power and might, he couldn’t have. Perhaps the only woman who’s ever said no to him. You betrayed him. You humiliated him and that’s not something he has forgotten any more than you have.

“Al-“ You call, your voice heavy and more desperate than you would have liked.

“Shhhh,” He quiets you on a low hissing breath that sends a shiver down your back.

“Don’t you worry yourself now, baby. He’ll be expecting the call.”

Releasing your face, he rises slowly from his chair. Straightening out his finely tailor jacket, extending a hand out to you like he’s some kind of gentleman.

“Shall we?” He says, the choice yours.

Every survival instinct inside you screams to run away. Get out of there as fast as you can. Save yourself. But your heart reminds you, you can’t. Somewhere inside you always knew this is where this would end. You’ve learned nothing in life is free and the most deceiving things usually cost your soul. The thought of losing Tommy. Losing another man you love and the family you’ve grown to love like blood - has you taking a deep breath and placing your hand gently into his as you rise from your seat.

* * *

 

 

“Undress.” He instructs when you’re finally alone in his hotel room. Pulling casually at his cigarette as if his request is as simple as a call on the weather.

You stare at him, eyes blinking as you feel the breath moving heavier in and out of your lungs. Your heart beating faster as you force a smile to curl pleasingly on your lips like a good girl. You tell yourself over and over again - it’s just sex. There’s no money being exchanged, just the lives of the ones you love. You can do this. You’ve done it before. Almost nightly these days. Just spread your legs and close your eyes, pretend it’s Tommy. Do it for Tommy.

“Your guard.” You say lightly, your laugh uneasy, motioning for the man standing by the door who watches you.

Trying to keep your reservations light as if surely it was just an oversight, a misunderstanding, but the fear building in your belly warns you you already know isn’t not.

“He stays. Can never be too sure these days. Don’t worry yourself though, nothing he hasn’t seen before.” Al says, his voice even, but commanding. There’s no question in his tone and the sound of it sends a shiver running down your back.

Your jaw tightens, anger stirring to life inside you. Letting him fuck you is one thing. Letting him do it while someone else watches is something else entirely. You didn’t agree to this twist. You’ve heard enough and you’re in no mood for games, as you swiftly change your mind and move for the door.

“Forget it.” You say in a huff of anger.

You’ve reached your limit. You’re done. You’ve heard the rumors. Tony told you himself how Al likes to play games with people, but you didn’t agree to this.

You go to leave, but you only make it a few steps before you’re nearly thrown to the floor, your face whipping so hard to one side it nearly knocks you off your feet as you stumble back

It takes you a moment as the pain and reality settle in. But only a moment, before you feel the warm copper taste fill your mouth and instantly you know what’s happened here. He struck you and the burn along your lip leaves you with no confusion about where, as you drag your tongue slowly along the burning slice on your bottom lip.

Your hand reaches slowly for your bleeding mouth before you feel his hand grab hold of your jaw and yank your face back to his. You stare blindingly into ruthless dark brown eyes as his grip tightens on your jaw.

“Your Tommy needs something from me, and you’re going to show me just how willing you are to make sure he gets it.” Al hisses against your face, his fingers pressing into your jaw.

There’s fire in you. Your sister always thought your mother and father should have put it out while you were still young, but no one did and that flame has burned deep within your soul ever since. Keeping you alive when all else fails. Still alive and burning within you even now.

Taking back your control, your smack his hand away from your face as you step back, creating much needed distance. Your chest moves heavy as your heart pumps hard in your chest. Your eyes meet his in anger as you wipe at your bloody lip, but he’s already anticipated your vengeance.

“You know what they’ll do to him and that whole fuckin family. None of them will survive. How badly do you want this deal, baby?” Al taunts you.

You know what he’s doing, and in that moment, you hate him. Hate him like you’ve never hated a man before, because he’s also right. He knows your weakness. You showed your hand to a monster and now he has something over you. Knows you have more to lose here than him and he has every intention to use that against you. You stare into his eyes wanting to move for the door, but your feet won’t budge.

His patience wears thin as he suddenly lashes out, snatching at the open seam of your dress that slips revealingly up your leg, ripping it clean up to your thigh as he yells at you.

“Take off the fucking dress or get out!” He hollers.

His words vibrate through you and send tears pricking at your eyes. You close them to keep the tears at bay, and instantly Tommy fills your mind, then Polly, Arthur and Finn. They would all be lost. Charlie would have no one, but you. They need this and you can get it for them.

You can’t beat a man with your fists, you can hardly hold a gun convincingly, but this you can do, this is yours to give… All you have to give. You’ve already lost one family, lost the man you loved. You can’t lose them. You can’t lose him. Not if there’s anything you can do about it.

Swallowing hard against the choking lump strangling in your throat, you open your eyes and push down your tears. He may hold what is most dear to you over your head, break your heart with it, but he doesn’t get to see you cry as it happens.

Your gaze falls to the guard at the door. You could leave, you tell yourself. You’re certain he’d let you go, but the deal would be off. And he knows you’re not willing to bet the lives of the ones you love.

The guard stares back at you. His face blank, eyes hollow, this isn’t something new for him and that does nothing to comfort you.

Swallowing hard and slow, your gaze falls back to Al with a pounding in your heart. You meet his eyes, holding them without backing down before he slowly sends you a nod, pushing you on.

“You’re a fuckin’ bastard.” You hiss at him through a clenched jaw.

The decision is yours, if you can even call it that, as your hand shakily reaches for the strap of your dress. Sliding it off your shoulder as you will it to stop trembling and appear strong. Reaching for the other strap, you swear to yourself, whatever happens here, you will be strong, you’ll do it for them. He won’t break you.

* * *

 

Your body is sore, your limbs weak and trembling, but your mind eerily numb. You move out of the car parked on Watery lane, but feeling detached from it all in a strange sort of way that’s hard for you to grasps or define.

You haven’t looked in the mirror since you left the hotel. You don’t want to see your image. You don’t want to know what’s staring back at you. You don’t want to awaken from the numb haze that keeps you guarded and blind to the full extent of what’s been done. You’re safe from the truth as long as you don’t wake up…

The blinders that Tommy sent to accompany you look terrified. Big strong men who will fearlessly stare down the barrel of a gun, now stare at little old you with fear blinding in their eyes. You know they think you’re their death sentence. They think Tommy will have them dispatched once he sees what happened to you on their watch.

You want to tell them you plan to do everything in your power to stop that. What happened here was of no fault of their own. You thought you knew what you were getting yourself into. You told them to wait for you outside the room. You never screamed for help. You never tried to get away.

They’re confused, you can see it in their worried gaze. Unsure how this happened to you without them knowing. How it slipped by unnoticed. You want to explain how, but you can’t. You don’t want to think about what happened in that room. You’re not even sure how to put it into words, but it’s done. You did what you had to do, you keep telling yourself over and over again like the chant of a prayer that holds the only hope to your salvation.

“Go home. Lay low for the next few days. I’ll talk to Tommy.” You tell them as you approach number 6 on Watery lane.

Two men, tall and strong, low hung caps with razors sewn into the lip stare back at you unsure if they should take your orders. You’ve gotten them in enough trouble as it is. You wish that things could have been different, but Tommy insisted they come.

After a long silence, first the one nods slowly, then the other, because all three of you already know, if you walk in looking as you surely must with them at your back, Tommy is likely to drag them out into the street and shoot them down on the spot.

You brace yourself as you stand before the black soot covered door, wooden slab in a sea of bricks, the building stretching down the block in either direction. The hazy glow of the street lamps hanging over head are your only source of light beyond the faint illumination shining from a scattering of windows overhead. Windows that stare down at you like the eyes of judgement awaiting your fate.

Your steps are slow to ease the ache of your muscles and the trembling uncertainty you hold barely contained inside. You’re thankful it’s dark out by the time you get back. So no one can see you, see what you’ve become, as you take one last deep breath of courage and move inside to face what awaits you. The moment of truth if there ever was one.

The sound of the front door seems to sound like an alarm as you close it quietly behind you, and hear Tommy coming through the interior door into the front room to meet you.

“What took so long?” He demands with a heavy impatient breath on approach, but it dies just as suddenly as you turn to face him and he takes the sight of you in.

The moment stops. Frozen in time. You can’t move as you stare into his icy blue eyes. The shock that dilates in his pupil leaves you immobile. A heartbeat, one – maybe two, and Tommy’s moving across the room in long quick strides until he can reach you. His palms gently cupping your face as he slowly tilts it from side to side, looking you over.

“…Fuck,” Rips heavily off Tommy’s breath in a raw unbridled emotion, the sound of it echoes off you like a sounding board, leaving trembles in its wake.

Tears burn in your eyes and threaten to form with the emotion ripping free on his breath, the worry blinding in his eyes. Part of you wishes you could see what he sees, another part of you is thankful you’re still ignorant to how bad it looks… Being stuck in your skin is more than enough.

“He did this to you?” Tommy demands to know as his palms cup your jaw while his thumbs traces your neck and what surely must be bruises left behind. All his biggest fears about this meeting come to life. You watch his jaw tighten, watch it flex, feel his hand tense as he moves his thumb gently over your cut lip as you wince from the string.

Polly’s the next to comes in through the doorway, but she doesn’t notice it right away the way Tommy did. Tommy’s far more familiar with the look of your face than Polly or anyone else in this house.

It takes her a moment and several investigative steps closer toward you and Tommy, before she stops dead in her tracks as your current circumstance reveals itself. Your heart pounds hard in your chest as your veils of denial begins to dissolve around you like early morning fog as the sun rises higher in the sky.

“Bloody hell.” Slips breathlessly off her lips before her hand rises to her mouth to cover the shock of it, as her eyes stares back at you in utter disbelief. It takes her a moment, but quickly she snaps out of her daze.

Her face turning back as she calls through the house, “Ada! Ada, I need a hand in here!”

It’s the sight of them, watching the ones you love react to you that begins to tip to scales. The way the Blinders looked at you was one thing, you didn’t know them… Seeing the sight of yourself through the eyes of the people you love is another.

That thin blanket of denial and numbness you wrapped yourself in to get out of that hotel, get home, it’s rapidly disappearing as the look of horror on Tommy and Polly’s faces makes the truth an inescapable monster you’re not sure how to face. It feels overwhelming and assaulting like the slap you received across your face earlier that night.

Ada appears moments later in the doorway, impatience shining like fire in her dark Shelby eyes until her gaze finds you by the door.

“Bloody hell, what happened?” She gasps, but Polly quickly turns to her, shooing her into motion.

“Get the water on. We need to draw Fiona a bath.” She orders.

The weight of their stares, the worry in their eyes, it leaves your body trembling where you stand as you suddenly reach out for the wooden trim of sofa to brace yourself.

“Fee,” Tommy calls out in concern, reaching for you, to steady you, but his touch feels like fire on skin that’s already felt too much.

“I’m fine,” You blurt out, pulling from his touch.

Your words as empty and disconnected as you feel. Anxiousness builds in your bones, threatening to explode into untamed panic as the bubble of denial that got you home in one piece threatens to burst entirely. Your fingers run firmly along the carved wooden edge of the sofa as you try to hold onto the feeling, let your mind wander, let it take you away from all this.

Your chest tightens, you find it hard to catch your breath as the night begins to unfold in your unwitting mind, taunting and scratching at the edge of your consciousness. Pushing and pulling for your attention, but you fight to keep it at bay as you force yourself to focus on the smooth wooden trim of the sofa and not what happened tonight or the horror in Tommy and Polly’s eyes.

You fight to keep everything under your control. You simply aren’t ready. You don’t want to look at it. You did what you had to do, it’s over – you repeat your mantra soothingly to yourself in your mind. Begging for it to deliver you from the grips of the beast sinking its teeth into your soul.

It’s the feel of Tommy’s hand running slowly up your leg that catches your attention. Your eyes snap down to his touch and away from the sofa. His attention still fully focused on you, looking you over, finding every little broken piece of the puzzle to what happened back at that hotel. His fingertips trace up the seam of your ripped dress, a tear clean up to your thigh. You flinch under his touch as the memory of Al ripping it from you fills your mind like a sharp flash.

You watch a new kind of fire fill Tommy’s icy blues eyes with understanding as they slowly rise and meet your own. You can see the wheels turning in his calculating mind and the reasons for why your dress would be ripped is the final straw for him. Tommy sees now he didn’t just put his hands on you… Without a word he pulls his gun from the leather holster strapped around his shoulders, his sharp gaze leaving yours as Tommy checks to ensure its fully loaded, before taking a step for the door.

But you move quick, instinctively as you step in front of him, cutting him off. You want to tell him that’s not what happened. You want to tell him his assumptions are wrong. You never said no. It was part of the deal. You let it happen. So why won’t the words come out of your mouth? And why does your heart finally feel vindicated by the rage in Tommy’s eyes, compared to the numbness and denial of your mind? Why does your heart cry out to be heard from the tight confines of your chest, as if it’s been broken and bruised far more gravely than you’re willing to admit?

Polly doesn’t miss a beat as her eyes snap up and her voice calls out in the absence of your own.

“Leave it Tom.” Polly tells him, her voice firm and unwavering in a way she only uses with Tommy when she feels she must make a point.

“Did you see what he did to her? He took it too far.” Tommy snaps back at her and suddenly the whole room is erupting under the rapidly building tension, filling the air with a combustible energy that threatens to blow at any moment, as Polly’s eyes shoot to you.

“You said he was sweet on you.” She throws at you, her tone edgy with urgency, but you see it in her eyes, she’s not anger at you. She’s just in shock. It’s a look you recognize all too well. A look that makes the pain inside you grow and become more real by the moment.

You nod, numbly feeling the ache of your throat as you do.

“Aye, Sweet on me. I never said he was kind.” You answer her honestly, your voice raw and scratchy as it tries to find it’s sound against the ache in your throat.

A quiet huff lifts off Tommy’s breath as he looks back at you in utter disbelief. The walls closing in on you in the grip of his icy blue eyes.

“Ya let him do this? You let this be part of the deal?” It’s almost more of a statement than a question.

A realization, an unthinkable one that leaves a man even as hardened as Thomas Shelby in shock. And the way he stares back at you, that unthinkable truth in his eyes, it rips your heart in two…

You did this to yourself. You agreed to this in exchange for the number. The guilt and blame fall suffocatingly tight against your chest as tears you can no longer fight well heavy in your eyes. Fishing out the note of paper from the cup of your breast, you hold it up like the only prize you have to offer in all this, as warm rain drops finally drip down your cheeks.

“I got the number. He knows you’ll be reaching out.” You tell him, offering Tommy your prize, your bounty after giving Al everything you had to give in exchange for it.

Tommy doesn’t move and you can’t either. The disbelief in his eyes holds you as captive as the tears that slip from your eyes. It’s Polly who breaks the spell. Snatching the paper from your hand and shoving it into Tommy’s, before she arms wrap gently around your shoulders.

“Come on, dear. Let’s get you cleaned up.” She tells you softly as she leads you out of the front room and back toward the stairs.

The layers fall away as Polly leads you up the old creaking stairs. Your mind a frazzled storm of jumbled thoughts and emotions, all hard to grasp or make sense of. The look in Tommy’s eyes haunts you every step of the way. You aren’t a whore, you tell yourself. You promised yourself you would never be that.

It was an exchange. It was all you could do. All you had to give. You’ve learned just as well as any, this world isn’t always kind or fair to women… This is a man’s world. You gave what you had to give. Wielded what little power you have to help protect and save the ones you love. That doesn’t make you a whore, you tell yourself once again.

The water is ready by the time you reach the room, Ada’s waiting as Polly leads you in and shuts the door. Polly helps you disrobe as you begin to unravel at the seams, the walls closing in on you.

“He didn’t force himself on me, Pol. He was rough, but he didn’t force himself.” You begin to mutter as Polly pulls your long jacket free from your trembling shoulders.

Your eyes fall suddenly to your dress and the torn seam along your leg, surely it’s ruined.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Ada. I’ll fix it or get you another.” Your eyes shoot frantically to her as you apologize, tears welling up in your eyes once again.

“It’s just a dress. It doesn’t matter.” Ada reassures you, taking your hands into hers for a gentle squeeze, but you don’t miss the alarm that fills her eyes as you both notice the bruises forming on your wrists, before her gaze shoots wordlessly to Polly.

You pull your hands back quickly, running them over your wrists as your frantic eyes shoot back and forth between Polly and Ada.

“I didn’t know it was goin’ to be like that. I didn’t know he would- He had what we needed, Pol. Tommy has to know I didn’t do it to betray him. I would never do that. I was trying to protect us. I did what I had to do. I did what I had to.” You plead desperately your voice raspy and cracking as tears falling freely from your eyes, slipping off your lips as your heart pounds desperately out of control.

It’s all coming apart so quick. A wave like a tsunami crashing over you. You feel too small to hold it back any longer as it all comes crashing down to swallow you alive. Leaving you fractured and confused, because you said yes, you let it happen, but your skin crawls, and you heart feels betrayed in the worst way possible.

You’re heaving, struggling to catch your breath as Polly’s hands enclose around your face and force you to look at her as she speaks softly to you.

“Shhh, I know, dear. I know… Sometimes, we as women do things we shouldn’t have to do. Give more than anyone should have to give. Tommy knows that. He knows you wouldn’t betray him. You got the number. You did good.” Polly soothes, wiping away the tears that stain your face as she speaks to you in a tone a mother would use with her young child, but with an honesty only women buried under the belly of the beast would understand.

“Ada,” Polly says, with a tilt of her head, before you feel Ada begin to carefully unzip the dress, causing your face to snap back toward the movement with a start. Before Polly gently draws your face back to her.

“We’re going to get you out of these clothes. You’re going to take a bath. Have some tea and whiskey. I have a little medicine from Compton’s Chemists that’ll help with the nerves, and you’re going to start to feel a little better, eh?” She soothes you as she strokes your hair behind your ear gently, sad smile filling her face, and you can see it in her eyes – she understands.

She understands what you did. She understands why you did it. And most of all, she understands the price you paid for it. And now, now she’s going to help you get through this. You can see it in the unwavering grip of her eyes and you trust it.

* * *

 

You lose track of time after you drink your tea and Polly gives you a spoonful of medicine. You drift away in that old brass washtub you and Tommy fucked for the first time in. Washing away the night, scrubbing your skin raw, until the water turns cold and your fingertips prune. Your limbs hum and your mind feels fuzzy, whether from the whiskey or the medicine, you’re not sure.

Your senses are dulled and you’re grateful for the escape from the cage of your tortured mind. When you finally get out, you wrap yourself in the robe Polly left for you and wander over the mirror. Your wet feet padding against the hardwood, leaving a trail of water prints behind you, as you move for the mirror on the wall, because you finally need to know. You finally feel you must face yourself.

By the glow of the candle light you stand in front of the small mirror and try to inspect yourself as best you can. Tell yourself it’s probably better the lighting is soft and forgiving as you look over the cut on your lip, running your fingertips faintly over it. Relieved the medicine Polly gave you numbs it enough that it no longer stings. Your hands fall to your neck next, the bruises around your throat are hard to see in the dim light, but you feel them in the ache of your throat.

Your fingers trail there as a flash fills your mind… The feel of his hand clamps down around your throat, the desperation in your heart. Your hands quickly drop as you let the robe slip open and your gaze wanders over your body, taking note of the bruises that mar your skin. The tears come fast to your eyes, falling equally quick down your cheeks as you shake your head lightly to push the memories away.

Wiping at the tears on your cheeks, you sense someone behind you. Their presence silent, but consuming space. Only one person you know who can do that. You look over your shoulder to find Tommy standing by the door, staring back at you as he closes it softly behind him. You clutch the rob tightly around yourself as you turn to face him for the first time since you came home. Your face ducking low in shame as your damp hair falls forward around your face.

“I must disgust you now.” You admit quietly, shame getting the best of you.

And after what you’ve done, what happened in that room tonight – how could you not, you think to yourself as you fist the fabric of the thin robe tighter in your hands. Men like to own their women. They don’t like to share. Least of all Thomas Shelby. You know that as well as anyone. A fact that’s notched its way into your heart now that you feel used.

“After everything I’ve done. The blood on my hands…” Tommy says on a heavy breath, his voice radiating with a raw quiet honesty that has your eyes daring to look up at him with a glimmer of hope.

There’s no rules for what you’ve done. None that you know of anyway. What you did – the kind of women who do dirty work like that don’t hang on the arm of men like Thomas Shelby. You have no idea what this means for you. But his words give you hope.

Your eyes meet in the faint candlelight that flickers and sways in the still air of the room. Your limbs are buzzing with the same energy that hums in your mind. It makes you feel him, it’s the penetrating grip of his stare that pulls for you as readily as you pull for him.

Silently Tommy moves to you, burying your face against the cotton of his undershirt as your arms wrap around his torso, your hands slipping past the suspenders that strap him. Tommy’s fingers bury in to your damp tangled locks, his palm cupping the back of your head as the other wraps and pulls at your waist.

You stay there, breathing him in, fulling your lungs with his scent. His arms quieting any lingers nerves. And for the first time since you left to meet Al – you feel safe. Well, as safe as you can feel. You’re not sure you’ll ever feel quite the way you did before. So you linger there, letting yourself get lost in it and what little quiet it can offer you.

There’s something you must discuss with Tommy though before he puts some wild plan into motion that will only undo everything you’ve sacrificed for.

“Listen to me Tommy, I don’t want you seeking revenge for this.” You tell him as you feel the muscles beneath your cheek and around the body tense with your words.

You could have stayed there all night, wrapped in his arms, trying to hold onto the feeling of him, but you need him to hear you as you slowly pull back from Tommy enough to meet his eyes.

“We have too many enemies now. We need this partnership.” You tell him, but Tommy’s so damn stubborn sometimes as his arms fall away from you and pulls from your grasp.

Taking a step back from you as he runs a frustrated hand down his face, a heavy huff leaving his chest. His head shakes slowly from side to side before he turns back to you.

“After what he did to you.” Tommy practically shouts back, his temper flaring again.

“That was the price and I paid it. If you go after him, everything I went through will be in vain.” You tell him, trying to make him understand as you slowly move to him. He meets your gaze on approach, his jaw tight, hating what your proposing. Of letting Al get away with this.

“There is nothing left to settle, understand?” You practically beg him. You can’t stop Tommy. No one can if he sets his mind to it. You can only pray he’ll hear you out.

Tommy holds stubbornly steadfast, sparking up a cigarette to buy himself time, before he finally concedes with a subtle nod and a foreboding… “For now.”

“Tommy-“ You don’t like the sound of that, but he cuts you off before you can probe further.

“If you knew this would happen why’d you push to go?” Tommy asks you, those deep piercing blues digging in past your skin.

Seeing right through you the way only he can. He takes a drag as you take a step closer to him. Standing before him with all that you have left to give. What’s left of yourself.

“What price would you be willing to pay to spare my life?” You ask him.

You want to tell him you did it for him, but you know it’ll only break his heart worse. So instead you explain it in terms you hope he’ll understand and he seems to as Tommy reaches out, pulling you tightly against him.

“I didn’t want this for you…” He breathes heavily against your hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to put this at the very end, because I wanted to discuss it after the chapter had been read… This idea of questionable consent. So many of us find ourselves in situations where we consent with your bodies, but not with your hearts. We can often do it for various reasons, often related to pressure or coercion, but there’s many reasons. And it’s a very painful and confusing experience, because we said yes with your bodies and no with our hearts. An act that can leave us feeling torn in two. Let me say, if it feels wrong, it was wrong. If you’re hurting, your feelings are justified. Don’t let yourself or others convince you it was nothing, if it was something. Your feelings matter. You matter. And I think we need to talk about this grey area of consent a lot more.


	11. In The Bleak Midwinter|| Part 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a very tough chapter to write. As the previous one, but I tried to approach the topic with honesty. This chapter starts two weeks after the incident, Tommy and Fiona are having to deal with the aftermath. Tommy is a very tough character to write especially in these situations, but I felt he would feel a great deal of guilt for not protecting her and he would blame himself that it happened. And Fiona is battling her own mixed feelings of guilt and shame, while also trying so move past something that isn’t so easily overcome.
> 
> There is some sensitive language, references to sexual assault toward the end of the chapter. But felt men of the era, gangsters, and especially a man like Al would want Tommy to know exactly what he had done to the woman he loved. Would want to taunt him and try to get a rise out of him. Al's the kind of man who feed off that.
> 
> And thank you to everyone who left comments and kudos!

Tommy’s different. And if you’re honest, you knew in your heart he would be. Al took something that was his and tried to break it, and perhaps in Tommy’s eyes, succeeded. This is a man’s world. You remember your mother telling you that when you were a young girl, after you were caught rolling around in the dirt of the front yard with your brother Finn and his friends while your sister looked on in a huff, telling you to stop. 

You didn’t know what she meant then, but you learned soon enough. What happened to you, what was done, that was a man’s price, and in their world, you as a woman pay it. Most men understand that, but few understand what it’s like. Some try, but unless it’s happened to you… Unless you’ve carried the burden of a woman… Walked in her shoes… it’s hard to imagine… Even harder when she said yes.  

A place this small, a family this close, people know what happened. You did what you did, but it didn’t break you. That’s what you want them to know. You take great care to ensure you don’t appear troubled or afflicted. You refuse to be seen as weaker or lesser for what’s been done. It’s only at night the truth finds you. It’s only at night you can’t pretend. The pain in your eyes, it scares Tommy. He doesn’t say it, but you can see it. What happened that night changed him too.

 Tommy never spent much time with you during the day. His lack of presence doesn’t appear out the ordinary. Only those who knew what you were up to in the dark notice the different. Only they would know Tommy no longer shares your bed, but hovers about you like a new mother waiting for you to fall. He won’t let you out of his sight and if he can’t be there, his most trusted blinders are, or Arthur, or Finn. But Tommy won’t touch you, not like before. And that’s the hardest part, because looking in his eyes, you can’t tell if it’s because he’s afraid he’ll make it worse, or because he doesn’t see you the way he did before.

 You’re sound asleep, caught in the fight of slumber that only finds you in the dark, when your eyes close and your mind tries to rest. You’re fine, you tell yourself. You’ve been through worse. 

Surely being disowned and sent away by your family in your youth, pregnant and grieving the loss of the only man you ever loved, must be far worse than this. That was months of pain, years of grief. This? This was one night. That’s what you tell yourself even as your dreams weave a different tale entirely.

He finds you in the dark. The musky scent of his pungent cologne and sweaty skin seep up your nose. The forceful grip of his hands on your compliant body, the weight of him pressing and pushing you as he pleased. He’s the one who finds you in the dark.

It’s been nearly two weeks and still he finds you. Your breath is heavy and rapidly, moving in and out of your chest at a breaking necking speed as your heart pounds with a fury and your eyes shoot open with a start in the dark.

You stare up at the old weathered ceiling, paint peeling and hanging above you as you try to catch your breath. You don’t know what you were dreaming, and yet you know exactly what was unfolding. Sometimes the details are murky once you wake. Brought on by any mundane reminder in your day.

You force your breath to blow out slower, heavier - thick and moist as it leaves your lips. You’re trying to calm yourself down before you wake Finn beside you in bed, but then there’s a shift in the shadows. A movement – a change of light. 

Someone’s in the room with you, and instantly you’re sent into a raging panic as adrenaline floods through your veins. Your heart is pounding uncontrollably, breath shallow and rapid as you snatch the knife you now keep in the drawer of the bedside table and shoot up in bed ready for a fight.

“Easy Fee, easy. It’s me.” The familiar voice fills the otherwise silent air, husky and thick from a lack of sleep. 

You’d know the sound of it anyway, even before you recognize his blue eyes as your trembling hand slowly lowers the knife back to the table.

It’s Tommy, you realize. You’re eyes squinting as you take the sight of him seated on an old wooden chair just a few short feet from your bed. The sight of him throws you off completely. He wasn’t there when you fell asleep. 

Perhaps that’s why in all your panic you forgot that’s where he sleeps now. No, Tommy never leaves your side these days, but he won’t share your bed either. Hardly touches you at all. It’s the deepest kind of loneliness, when someone’s right next to you and miles away.

“You were dreaming.” Tommy tells you, as he leans forward in the chair, drawing closer to you.

Dreaming – the word bounces in your head like the hairpin trigger on an easily fired gun and suddenly a firing squad of flashes rapidly assault your mind. The feel of Al on top of you. Choking back your tears as you refused to break. His hand tightening on your neck, the pressure as you gasp. 

The dangerous unforgiving look in his eyes as he squeezed tighter and thrust harder into you with no mercy. You swear you can still feel him there – around your neck, between your thighs, and suddenly your stomach is flipping violently, a wave of nausea hitting you as it all comes back to you in a crushing wave.

Covering your mouth, you push out of the bed and stumble past Tommy. Dropping hard on your knees against the unforgiving hardwood floors in front of the pot at the far wall Poll keeps in case the little ones have to go in the night. You lean over it just in time to feel a retch violently wrack through you. Shaking violently through your body as you cough and gag, emptying your stomach into the old brass pot.

You don’t hear Tommy move over the sound of yourself retching, but you feel him crouch down beside you in the dark. Feel his knuckles run hesitantly down the length of your arm as he whispers your name.

“Fee…” You can’t deny the concern on his breath. 

Your heart is breaking in the dark. You feel so vulnerable and exposed as your wounds rip back open that as Tommy’s hand starts to pull away, you frantically reach for it, clutching it tight, needing someone to hold onto. But as Tommy squeezes your hand in return you remember, remember that he’s held you at a distance since the incident and you quickly jerk your hand back from him before he can pull away first.

“Mum?” Finn’s groggy voice suddenly fills the room at your back. “Mum are you a’right?” He’s scared, you hear it in his voice, you’d know the pitch of your child’s cry anywhere.

“I’m fine, baby.” You manage to spit out. Lying as you try to comfort him as best you can, afraid if you move from this spot another wave of nausea will hit you. You catch sight of Tommy rising on his feet out of the corner of your eye, before his voice fills your ears.

“She’ll be alright Finn. Why don’ you go sleep with Charlie tonight, ya? I’ll look after her.” You hear Tommy instruct your son as the pad of Finn’s little feet against the old wood floors fills your ears.

“Feel better Mum.” You hear him say as he slips out the bedroom, worry still thick on his breath.

The old creak of the door tells you he’s gone as tears burn in your eyes. You’re an emotional mess and knowing you frightened your child only makes you feel worse. Tommy’s steps are strong, his stride long as you hear him move back toward you.

“Should I call Pol?” He asks as he crouches back down beside you and you can hear it on his breath, he’s unsure what the best course of action is here, but his pity is the last thing you need.

Your fine, you tell yourself. You aren’t about to wake Pol over nonsense, you wouldn’t dream of it. Wiping at your mouth with the back of your hand, you shake your head no and brace your hands on the wooden stabs below. Digging your palms in, you slowly push yourself back on your feet. You sway, a little lightheaded at first as your reach for the wall for perch.

“I gotcha.” Tommy tells you as you feel him take your elbow. 

Your eyes meet in the dark and the look on his face as he stares back at you is almost more than you can bear – Uncertainty. Tommy doesn’t know how to help you. He’s unsure of what to do. For a man who’s always so sure of his course of action, it’s almost startling to see such an emotion in his eyes. But for a man who has barely touched you in days, his sudden desire to help only irritates you tonight.

“I’m fine,” You insist, pulling from his grip. You’re fine, you tell yourself again as you move slowly to the basin of water on the desk by the window. Dipping and cupping your hands on the chilly water before you splash it across your face, trying to wash yourself clean. Clean of a stain you can’t quite see, but always seem to feel these days. You rinse your face and neck, splashing water into your mouth, before rising from the basin slowly. 

Your gaze drifts off out the window in front of you as water runs down and drips off your face. You stare out into the rainy night, listening as the heavy drops pelt the window, watching the way the rain cuts through the light on the street lamps below like shards of glass. 

Your mind wandering… just over two weeks ago you would have been tucked in bed beside him, safe in his arms. You don’t regret what you did for the family, but you blame yourself for the damage it’s done to you and Tommy, and your angry at Tommy for pulling away.

You’re not sure how long you stand there, before Tommy’s hands find your shoulders, rolling the muscle in his palms, and for a split second your body relaxes under his touch. Your tension melts away, the anxious tightness in your chest subsides as a quiet sigh eases off your breath, but then he stops as he starts to guide you away from the window and back toward the bed. Gone as quickly as you captured it, like a dream in the morning light.

“Let’s get ya back to bed now, ya?” Tommy directs on a low gritty breath, still thick and gravel from the night.

“I’ve got it.” You shrug off his grasp. 

His fleeting moments of tenderness doing nothing to quell the pain inside your heart. It only amplifies the anger that’s been simmering in your heart for days. He hasn’t left you alone since it happened and yet he’s always kept you at arm’s length. When all your want is a moment of peace, and the assurance he’ll be there, really be there when you need him. 

You move of your own accord, feeling Tommy at your back, but as you reach the bed that awaits you, the cold spaces that now fill it taunting you, you turn to him,

“You comin’ to bed?” You test him, already knowing the answer that awaits you. You’ve missed him so desperately, and you hate to admit that, but standing there, after another nightmare, feeling the distance he’s put between you, you find yourself so bloody angry with him for making things worse.

The faint hazy glow from the street lamp and light of the near full moon, illuminates the sharp features of Tommy’s face. He’s hesitant, resistant, you can see it in his eyes.

“You should get some rest.” He tells you, face set like stone and equally unyielding.

You can’t resist the sardonic laugh that spills past your lips in response as angry tears burn at the edges of your eyes. You’re exhausted, physically and emotionally, and his continued rejection is the final straw.

“That’s all ya wan’ me to do these days, aye Tom? Where was the concern for my rest when you were fuckin’ me nearly every night? Am I too broken for ya now? Too much damage for Thomas Shelby.” You raise your eyebrow in challenge at him as tears blur your vision and slowly begin to fall on their own accord. You try your best not to wake the others in the house as the venom building inside you for weeks finally spills free.

“Fiona…” Tommy breathes, his head shaking slowly, denying your claim. 

The deep dark pits of his eyes twisting. The intensity of their blue, transforming into something more tortured, more guilt riddled as he reaches for you, trying to pull you closer. You shove his arm away, fire still burning in your belly as you rapidly wipe at your tears, angry at yourself for even crying.

“You think I liked it Tommy? Think I wanted him to fuck me?” You fire back, but the tears continue to build in your eyes and as they do Tommy grabs you, pulling you against him, tight against his chest. You struggle against him, trying to push him away, but he only holds you tighter.

“No Fee. Come on… come on.” He breathes out heavily against your hair.

For a moment you relent, surrender to his arms, finally feeling comforted. The familiar scent of Tommy filling your lungs, the smell of leather, whiskey, and smoke breathing life back into you. This is the closest he’s gotten since the night you came home. 

Wrapped in his arms, pulled tight against him, you feel safer, but you’re too angry with him to be appeased so easily. Angry that he’s discarded you. Angry that you gave your body and part of your soul up to a monster, only to be treated like you have the plague afterward. Angry that you can’t even have peace in your dreams. Angry that you don’t feel the same inside yourself anymore. Shoving harder at him, Tommy finally lets you go and stumbles back as you push him away.

“I don’t want your pity, Tommy. I can take care of myself. I always have…. Get out.” You say crossly, but Tommy doesn’t budge. He stares boldly back into your eyes, shoulders growing tense, but he doesn’t move.

“No,” He tells you unequivocally.

“Get out!” You finally snap at him, your heart breaking, and Tommy snaps back at you just as quick.

“No! I’m not fuckin’ leaving!” Tommy erupts, his voice twice the volume of yours as he yells at you for the first time ever.

You stand frozen in place, your chest heaves, rising and falling heavily as you stare at him, Tommy’s deep tortured eyes staring back at you. You don’t know what to say as Tommy looks at you in almost disbelief before he drops down into the chair he’d slept on, lowering his face into his hands as he scrubs at his eyes in frustration. 

Pulling the case from his waistcoat, Tommy clears his throat as he plucks a cigarette and places it in the seam of his lips before flicking his lighter. The room is suddenly eerily silent, except for the sound of Tommy pulling away at his cigarette – the deep inhale and exhale of his lips, the quiet burn of the paper as the rain carries on outside.

You stand there, not backing down, not charging ahead as you cross your arms against your chest and watch him. He takes a few more long pulls of his cigarette before letting out a long sigh and rising from his seat. Tossing his cigarette into fireplace, he turns back to you, suddenly taking your face in his hands.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at ya, but I need ya to get some rest and feel better, a’right?” Tommy tells you. His palms are rough, but his tone and words are softer than before.

You look into his eyes, the endless blue depths staring back at you, and for the first time since that night you feel like you’re staring into the eyes of the man you love. The man you’ve grown to know over these past few years. The tortured and broken man, who doesn’t speak softly to anyone the way he is with you now.

“Yeah?” He nods slowly, trying to coax your compliance as his thumb drags across your cheek. He’s scared for you and what’s becoming of you, you can see it.

The sight of him, the man you love only stirs a deeper longing and loneliness as you stare back at him.

“Are we done, Tommy?” You ask, exhausted and beaten down by it all. A life that’s been long, and seems to only steal your happiness as soon as you grasp it, every glimmer, every time, except Finn.

“No,” He answers, without hesitation, before he leans in and you feel his soft full lips touch your forehead as his thumb strokes at your cheek.

You glance back at the bed, the lonely confines that await you. Accepting you fate, you nod in agreement as you look back to him. But that tenderness you felt in his lips a moment ago, you still see it in his eyes now, as Tommy holds your gaze for a moment before he begins to shuffle off his shoes.

“Come on,” He says quietly as he moves you to the bed. You smile at him gratefully as you climb into it and watch as Tommy follows behind you. You roll onto your side and feel Tommy’s arm hesitantly wrap around your body.

“Is this- is this good?” He asks unsure, it’s then you can see he’s still afraid to touch you. 

Unsure how to hold a woman another man has damaged. You reassure him quietly, wrapping your arm around his as your eyes close, but there’s still a nagging at the edge of your mind, an itch under your skin that never quite goes away. 

You pray to the only God you’ve ever known to let this feeling pass and just let you be whole again. But as you drift away, into that thick space, hovering between here and the place you go when you close your eyes, you know in your heart nothing will be as it was before, as surely as you did the day you learned Tony was never coming home.

* * *

It was part of the deal, you knew that… But you had agreed to it before everything happened. And now you feel bound to follow through. Tommy is livid when he learns of the new clause in the contract.  As far he’s concerned you should never be the same room with Al or any member of his fuckin’ family again. 

His anger helps you focus, gives you something to think about and draw your attention to other than your own anxiety and fear. He wants you to break this part of the deal, call the whole thing off, but after everything that happened, you think it might be easier to just be done with it.

Maura, Tony’s mother – Al’s mother, she just wants to see her grandson again. She hasn’t seen Finn since he was just a baby and you were living destitute with your ‘aunt’ Brona. You know she misses him, misses what he represents, the last living piece of her dead son. As a mother, you don’t have the heart to rob her of that, so you agreed. To a meeting. To allow Maura to see her grandson. That’s it, that’s all it is you try to convince yourself and Tommy.

It’s Polly who brings sense to it all. A voice of clarity, she makes Tommy see there’s no reason to mix more bad blood into the business. This isn’t for Al, she tells him, but Tommy still hates it. 

He only agrees if he can arrange everything. The whole fucking thing must be on his terms, where he feels you and Finn are safest or it’s off. Tommy can’t leave Small Health without being shot, so he has the lunch booked at the Midland Hotel. It’s just you, Tommy and Finn that attend the lunch, and every Blinder Tommy can pull away from other jobs to fill the hotel.

Your nerves are on edge, anxiety racing, you haven’t seen Al since that night. It’s been nearly a month and your stomach has still been in knots the whole ride, but you don’t let it show. You bury it deep. 

After years of it only being you and Finn, your son has learned how to read you like a book. You know he’s nervous, meeting these people he doesn’t know, but if he senses any reservations in you too, it’ll only make matters worse. You stay strong for him as you always have.

Entering the Hotel lounge Tommy has reserved, you feel your fear and anxiety begin to peak. Your chest tightens, breath quickening, stomach tangling in knots, just a few more steps and you’ll be eye to eye with the man that terrorized you nearly a month ago, and yet it feels like just yesterday. 

But as Finn’s big nervous eyes shoot up to yours, you find your inner strength, and push your own fears down as you force a reassuring smile across your face. No experience in this life has made you stronger than becoming a mother. The instinctual drive to keep him safe, knowing his very life often depends upon you, that experience has created a reservoir of strength inside you you couldn’t have imagined before him.

The knots linger down deep in your belly, but you wrestle to keep them down below. You decide then and there, Al doesn’t get to have any more of you. You learned long ago people can only take your power if you let them, and you’re not handing yours out to that son of a bitch.

You’re steadfast in your conviction until you turn the corner and there he is, standing tall and erect beside his elderly mother, suit just as clean and pressed as you remember. He smiles at you as if your old friends and the sight of it sends shivers down your spine. 

Your feet stall for a moment, Finn’s eyes shooting back up to you when you abruptly stop walking. You will yourself to move, but god help you, it’s moments like these you’re painfully reminded… You’re only human.

Your feet are like lead on the plush carpet until you feel Tommy’s hand come to rest on your lower back, rubbing shapeless doodles into your spine, easing the tension. You feel his lips press lightly against the back of your head.

“Breathe,” Tommy instructs and you obey, slowly sucking in a deep breath, filling your lungs before you release it slowly back out. You glance up at him and he meets your gaze, reminded you’re not alone in this, you don’t have to be brave alone. His jaw is set, his face like stone, Tommy looks cold and uninviting, but you understand, that isn’t for you, it’s for Al and Maura.

He gives you a subtle nod and you begin to move again until you reach the table. You’d grown to care for Maura after Finn’s birth, but it’s been a long time and the air in the room feels thick and awkward as you try to start. The hotel is old and grand, held together by tall columns of mahogany and shiny marble floors. 

 The lounge is enormous with a beautifully hand painted ceiling, ornate crown molding along the trim and vast cream-colored walls cut apart by tall floor to ceiling windows that stream in light. You imagine this room is usually used for fine dining and important gala’s, but today it only holds your small group. Gangsters, mothers, a child and blinders at the door. The vast space seems to swallow you all up and only adds to the already palpable unease of the room.

Maura comes around the table slowly. It’s been so long and you sense she’s nervous too. She smiles at you kindly before her attention drops down to Finn.

“Hello Finn, I’m your nonna.” She says softly, reaching out her hand.

Finn’s giant blue eyes shoot up to you as you give him a nod of encouragement before he glances back down, extending his hand. “Hello,” He answers back, shaking her hand.

“Shall we sit?” Maura asks, motioning to the table.

You nod and begin to answer when Al suddenly clears his throat and sends your whole body filling with tension as your gaze involuntarily shoots his way.

“Mr. Shelby and I have a few things to discuss. Why don’t you ladies start. We’ll join you in a moment.” He suggests before he turns to Tommy.

“Mr. Shelby here doesn’t mind sharin’ his girl, am I right?” Al digs, like a screw turning just a little tighter. You can see it in Al’s eyes, that look – he loves playing games with people.

Your eyes shoot over your shoulder to Tommy. Your heart begins to race as you watch his jaw flex. He’s livid, but he’s trying to keep control. He knows just as well as you what Al is trying to do. His eyes meet yours and you plead with him silently not to take the bait.

Reaching into his jacket, Tommy promptly retrieves his cigarette case and has a smoke pressed tightly between his lips and sparked in seconds.

“Anything we need to discuss can be done in the back of the room.” Tommy finally answers, ignoring Al’s barb all together, but making it clear, he will not be leaving this room.

You take a seat at the table, motioning for Finn to take the one between you and Maura, as you glance over and watch Tommy and All walk steadily to the back corner of the large lounge. You heart begins to race, Tommy looks as calm as can be, slowly pulling away at his cigarette other hand in the pocket of his waistcoat, but he doesn’t know Al like you do. 

He doesn’t know how cruel and manipulative he can be. And the sinking feeling in your gut tells you Al isn’t done playing games. You turn back as Finn tugs on the sleeve of your shirt. His big blue eyes stare up at you with uncertainty as his hand slips into your own and squeezes it tight.

You notice Maura has placed a toy truck on the table, a gift for him surely. The look in her eyes is suspended, awaiting his response as she tries to win him over. You can see it in your little boy’s eyes, he doesn’t know what’s expected of him. He’s smart enough to know this lady wants his attention, but he doesn’t know her either.

 You explained to him the situation the night before, preparing him for who he would be meeting, but hearing it and fully understanding it are very different things to a seven-year-old boy who’s never really had a family before Tommy and Charlie. You smile down to your son, squeeze his hand in return, and give him a nod before he turns back to Maura and thanks her politely for the gift.

You gaze drifts back to the end of the lounge as you listen to Maura ask Finn about things he likes, trying to get to know the boy, but the conversation quickly fades away as your eyes zero in on Tommy and Al at the far end of the room. The tension on Tommy’s face is unmistakable even from across the room. Though you’re sure it’s not readable to anyone else. 

You can see he tries to ignore Al, his gaze set squarely on you, but his shoulders are held tight as he puffs away on another cigarette. You smile weakly over at him as your eyes meet. Silently urging him to behave, keep this pleasant for Finn’s sake, but you can only imagine what game Al must be trying to play. Having been held captive by his manipulation on a night you’ll never forget, you’re certain he’s still trying to play.

As the lunch wears on and the minutes pass, your attention continues to be torn, between your son as he tries to get to know the grandmother he doesn’t remember and Tommy. Maura tries to make conversation, telling you she thinks he has Tony’s smile, making note of your current inability to leave Small Heath, how unfortunate the circumstance is, and the questionable company you now keep, but you ignore most of it, you have no intention of explaining yourself to her. That’s not what this visit is for.

 She asks you about the boy’s schooling and you absently explain you’ve been teaching him at home yourself, when you notice Tommy’s muscles suddenly tighten, you see his jaw flex and fire ignite in his powerful blue eyes. Your stomach clenches, you can see this is about to go very bad and fast, as you quickly excuse yourself for a moment and rise from the table, moving toward him. It’s only when you grow near do you hear the conversation at hand, the taunts Al jabs and tries to provoke Tommy with.

“You see the key is you gotta grip her tight. Her eyes’ll water, mouth gasping like one of those fuckin’ guppy fish, but trust me, she fuckin loves it. Begging me to fuck her harder, till her eyes start to roll in the back of her head. Just before she’s about to pass out, that’s when you release her throat.”

His words sucker punch you in the gut as you suddenly think you might be sick on the lush carpet below. Your stomach flipping, but you have no time to focus on that as Tommy suddenly turns on Al. You find yourself having to push your way between them as you catch sight of Tommy reaching for his holstered gun.

“Tommy no!” You demand, the sound of your desperate voice calling his name breaks through his fury as his eyes drop down to yours.

“He’s not worth it. Please Finn is here.” You try to talk him down, your hand pressing against his arm that’s gripping his gun. Trying desperately to calm him down as the look in your eyes pleads with him. While your disgusted and revolted by what he said, your child’s in the room.

Tommy’s chest moves hard, the vein in his neck pulsing, but slowly his hand leaves his holster. Touching gently at your face as if to say – I hear you. His eyes shoot up pointedly to Al’s, the look in his gaze the kind of dark and deadly you’ve never seen him use before.

“You should watch your fuckin mouth. She’s the only reason your alive right now.” His voice low and gritty, but eerily calm in way you’ve never heard Tommy speak before. So foreign you hardly recognize it.

“An’ why do you think that is?” You hear Al jab, throwing one last knife at Tommy’s heart, but watching him slice at Tommy again is more than you can take as you finally snap. Hurting you is one thing, hurting the people you love is another beast entirely.

“Oh shut up!” You holler at him. 

Turning back to face Al, you don’t know what comes over you. Maybe it’s all the pain inside you, or the fact that he’s now trying to hurt your family after trying to break you, but suddenly you’re moving in on him, jabbing a finger violently at his chest as you boldly glare into his eyes unafraid.

“Tony despised you. He hated everything you were. Used to warn me about you, because even then he knew you were a monster.” You hiss out, seconds away from slapping him across the face when you feel Tommy’s hand on your shoulder.

“Let’s go.” He directs, the even tone of his voice stabilizing you, bringing you back down, calming you.

“Yes, lets.” You agree. Sucking in a sharp steadying breath as you pull yourself together and turn to your son watching you with big worried eyes from the table.

“Come on Finn.” You call, motioning for your son. “I’m sorry Maura. We have to go.”

The older woman looks frazzled and confused by what’s unfolded as she rises quickly from the table.

“Can I see him again?” She asks, an air of panic on her breath as Finn leaves the truck on the table and runs to you.

“We’ll be in touch.” You nod steely, your arm wrapped protectively around your son’s shoulders. 

But as you turn to go, you hear an ominous threat seep off Tommy’s lips, the low grit of his voice signaling these parting words are meant only for Al’s ears to catch.

“In business or in pleasure, one of these days I will kill you.”


	12. In The Bleak Midwinter || Part 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter centers around 4.05 from Peaky Blinders. And it brings us to a real crossroads for Tommy and Fiona as she faces an unimaginable future. 
> 
> As always kudos and comments are greatly appreciated! Thank you so much!

Friday, February 5th, you know what day it is, had it marked secretly in your diary. He told you before all this happened, but you couldn’t forget. This day has been looming over you for some time. It’s the reason you sought out Al. The reason you laid your soul on the butcher’s block. 

Only you and Polly know how the day is supposed to unfold, the ambush awaiting him, and still you hate this plan. Want to insist he brings reinforcements, but you can’t, your relationship is still on icy ground. Still trying to figure out what it means since you sold yourself to the devil.

You’re anxious all morning, up at the crack of dawn. And you can tell Tommy is too. He doesn’t say it, he never would, but you can see it past the guard of his eyes, and the quick pace of his movements.

You suddenly find yourself wanting to ask him for more details, more logistics as if either will offer you a greater sense of false hope, but you don’t, because ultimately you know it’s pointless. What happens today won’t come down to details or logistics. Tommy has the upper hand, because he knows the territory, but Luca has the men. In the sickness of your heart, you know it will ultimately come up to chance, who gets to the other first.

You try to appear normal and calm when the boys come down for the morning, it’s only when Tommy appears - suit pressed, cap low, satchel in hand, ready to go for the day that you feel your anxiety peak.

“A moment please?” You ask him casually, trying not to arouse any suspicion from the boys seated at the kitchen table awaiting breakfast you’ve just begun to prepare. Tommy nods easily enough and follows you into the small front room just for a moment alone.

You ring your hands nervously against the fabric of your skirt as you turn to him, looking Tommy dead in the eyes as you do. Your heart starts pounding hard, what if this is the last time you see him alive. Once he leaves this house, everything will be in motion, unstoppable, and all you can do is wait it out like Polly.

You move steadily to him, cupping his face firmly in your hands as you stare deeply into his eyes.

“Do what you must today, but come home to us tonight. Promise me, Tommy.” You practically beg on an insistent whisper, voice purposefully low as you force yourself not to cry.

Tommy stares deep into your eyes, his gaze guarded, protected and you think he’s already preparing himself for what’s to come, what he must do, but when he nods you can see it, he means it.

His face in your hands, you lean up on your toes and kiss him hard, lips desperate to press the feel and taste of his mouth in your memory forever. Tommy meets your kiss and matches it with a hunger of his own as he pulls your flush against him. As if the taste of you fuels his own inner strength. You’re still figuring out where things lie after Al, but one thing you’re certain of, the desire is still there.

You break the kiss and wrap your arms desperately around him, burying your face against the slope of his neck. Clutching him tightly as your tremble and shake with a fear you can no longer contain. Tommy holds you, his grip reassuring.

“I’ll see you tonight. I promise.” Tommy whispers against your hair and you take his word, because there’s no other choice. With one more drawn out moment in his arms, you let him go, frozen as you watch him turn and walk away into a fate as yet uncertain.

* * *

You let yourself get distracted with thoughts of Tommy, your mind wanders these days and suddenly the toast is burning, the small kitchen rapidly filling with smoke.

“Mum! Mum! Mum!” Your boys call in unison, snapping your attention back from the haze of your mind to the stove as you race over and pull the burning bread off it and away from the heat, cursing as the heat of it burns at your hand. 

The room reeks of burnt bread as you wave your arms about trying to clear the smoke, but as the smell of burnt food winds its way up your nose, you feel your belly tighten as a wave of nausea washes over you fast. You feel bile racing up your throat as you clutch desperately at your mouth and dart for the back door. You barely make it out into the alleyway behind the house before you vomit, bile retching up your throat. You haven’t eaten yet today, so mostly you gag, acid burning its way up your throat.

Your head comes to rest against the old black bricks as you hunch over the side of the building, tears burning in your eyes.

“No,” You whisper pleadingly off a desperate breath, heart clenched as you hit your fist against the unforgiving bricks.

“No.” You beg as a tear slips free, dropping down to the muddy earth below.

You clutch at your stomach as it churns, feeling it beneath your skirt as more tears sting your eyes. This can’t be happening, but the signs are there. It’s been years since you saw them, just a scared girl back then – no less scared now. You know what these things mean as you dig your forehead deeper against the bricks, but you can’t bear it. After everything you’ve already been though, this can’t be happening, it can’t be… That monster can’t still be inside you.

“I drank the fuckin’ tea!” You whisper harshly on a breaking breath as tears of anger summon in your eyes, slamming your hand against the unforgiving wall once more.

“What?” Polly’s voice picks up suddenly from beside you.

Shooting up along the wall, your startled eyes find her as you turn to the backdoor. Polly stares at you expectantly, her gaze filling with confusion as the back of your hand wipes rapidly at your mouth, before swiping at the remaining tear stains on your flushed cheeks.

“I burnt the toast.” You blurt out. The only words your mind could string together in response against the pounding of your heart.

“I can see that.” Polly answers plainly, unconvinced as her gaze drops to the vomit along the wall of the building and back up to you. “Are you a’right?” She asks.

You can feel her eyes searching you for answers deeper than your words reveal, but you’re not ready for that. You’re not ready for any of this.

“I’m fine.” You lie in haste as you move for the backdoor, too afraid to meet her gaze as you slip past her.

* * *

You’re a wreck all afternoon. Every noise sends your gaze shooting to the door awaiting news or Tommy’s return. You’re completely on edge, the tension building in your veins with every hour that passes feels down right palpable. You pray near constantly, rosary hanging from your neck, clutched in your hands so tightly and often it’s begun to leave a mark. You could be a better catholic, you know this, sinned enough to send you straight to tell, but you swear you’ll do better if only Tommy will come home. Just let him make it home, you pray against the pounding of your heart. 

You let the children play most of the day. You’re mind too distracted and fragmented to help them complete any real sort of lesson. And soon enough, as the day wears on, the news finds as you word spreads of the fire fight in Artillery Square. Within nothing definitive about causalities lost on either side, you’re chomping at the bit until Tommy arrives back home. Needing to see with your own two eyes he survived.

But Tommy’s a mess by the time he makes it back. A shut tight shell of a man as he comes through the door. His arms don’t even muster enough spirit to move from where they hang at his sides when you dive against him for a desperate hug, thankful he’s alive. 

Tommy finds his way to a chair in the front room where you’ve all been anxiously waiting, practically collapsing into it, before he plucks a cigarette between the hold of his lips and disappears deeper in his mind. You shoot Polly a worried glance, but she smiles weakly at you in return with a subtle nod. Telling you without words, he’ll be alright, just give him time. Absently Tommy watches the boys play with their tinker toys on the floor by the fire that keeps the room warm and toasty.

Polly pours him a drink and you move to light the cigarette still hanging forgotten and unlit on his lip. Tommy seems to come to his senses as your retrieve the lighter hanging limp in his hand. You smile softly down upon him, brush your knuckles across his cheek. Unable to resist the urge to touch him, even with the children present, not when he looks so lost and beaten down. 

Tommy lets you light it, inhaling as the tip sparks. His hand pulls it from his lip before letting his arm fall to the armrest. You step aside as Polly brings him a drink, but you don’t get far as Tommy suddenly snakes an arm around your waist and pulls you down onto his lap. He draws you close as he leans forward against your back. You feel his cheek nuzzle against the back of your shoulder, his nose buries in your hair as he breathes deeply against you.

This is the most Tommy’s reached for you since the night with Al, and this is the most demanding display of affection he’s ever done in front of the children since the day you nearly kissed in front of them. It’s always been an unspoken rule between you to keep them in the dark as much as possible, but you don’t think Tommy’s considering that at the moment, not in the right state of mind.

Finn’s the first to notice, his silent glances spurring on Charlie’s as the boys try to inconspicuously glance up from their toys on the floor.

“It’s alright, my loves. Tommy’s just had a long day is all.” You try to explain as best you can without adding fuel to the fire. 

Wrapping your arm across his at your waist, you give it a reassuring squeeze as your other reaches back behind your shoulder, running your nails gently across Tommy’s scalp as he buries his face deeper against you, breathing harder against your fallen hair with your touch.  Tommy holds your close, breathing you in like your air to his lung until Polly tells you the others have arrived. Then he gives your leg a quick pat before you rise and you both know, it’s the moment of truth.

It’s only at the family meeting that you learn the events of the day. Polly finally reveals she got a letter months ago, just after Christmas from Luca trying to bargain a deal for Michael if she gave up Tommy. That’s where this terrible plan was born from and today Tommy got three Italians in an ambush meant for his head.  

You stand silently near the doorway by Polly, keeping a loose eye on the children still playing the front room. Arthur looks furious by the news. Johnny Dog’s, Charlie and his brother Finn raise a glass to Tommy as if it’s some kind of celebration. While Lizzie and Linda stare the same unamused looks on their face that yours holds. None of this was a good idea, all of it far too risky as far as you were concerned. But it’s done and Tommy came home. Even if he looks painfully worse for the wear because of it.

Despite the anger in Arthur’s eyes, he’s the first the burry the hatch and suggest everyone head over to the Garrison for a much earned drink. Even the boys come along, Charlie the first to earn anything more than a pained response from his father, but you already knew the sun rose and set with that boy in Tommy’s eyes.

When you arrive at the Garrison everyone has a drink, trying to lighten the mood and unwind after the events of the day. You’re there, but only in body as your old haunts and concerns stirs once again inside you now that you know Tommy made it out of the day alive.

Polly finds you at the bar as the others carry on a lively conversation about Romani freedoms, Italian frailty, and communist interference. You catch sight of your boys playing in the filth under an empty table, while Linda tries to explain to Lizzie once again how she’s still a good Christian woman, the lord has merely informed her the rules aren’t quite the same while residing in a heathen town.

“You’ve barely touched your drink.” Polly notes as she comes to stand beside you.

You catch her eyes and offer her a tired smile before your gaze drifts to the glass of gin in your hand as it rests on the bar. Tommy’s been insisting everyone try to his gin all night. Tilting the glass in your hand, you watch the clear liquor slide from one side to the other in a gentle wave. If that monster did leave something to grow inside you perhaps you should just down your drink and grab another, hoping this’ll all just go away. You hate yourself for even thinking that, so callus, so cruel, but whenever you think of Al and what happened that night – It’s what you feel.

But then there’s the other option… Your gaze drifts from the glass and finds Tommy in a sea of people as you draw your bottom lip between your teeth and nibble at it as your thoughts stir. What if it’s his? What if a piece of the man you love is growing inside you? Safe inside you as long as you protect it. You know it’s just an old wives’ tale, but your mother and aunt Brona swore by it… liquor hurts the baby.

Tommy’s gaze finds yours from across the room as if he can feel the pull of your eyes. A small smile curls at the corner of his mouth and lights up his eyes just for you. The first smile you’ve seen on his face all day, before Johnny Dogs ropes him into another conversation and he becomes distracted. Would Tommy even want it if it was his? Or would he be upset with you for making things more complicated during an already difficult time? Your face ducks as it pulls back toward Polly, unsure of anything.

“Not much thirsty, I guess.” You lie, unable to meet her gaze as you do, because you hate lying to Pol.

 She’s been nothing but good to you, you’re just not ready to tell another soul you’ve gotten yourself into the worst kind of trouble an unmarried woman can get… again no less. But Aunt Polly knows, wiser than the rest, she always knows as her fingers hook under your chin and draw your face up to hers.

“Oh sweet girl,” she says to you softly on a heavy breath, her eyes full of sympathy and grief.

Knowing she can see the truth so plainly brings tears of shame burning to your willful eyes. Biting them back, your chest tightens with a pain you’ve been holding in for so long you’re terrified you can’t contain it much longer. 

“What am I gonna do?” You whisper on a shaken breath.

Her hand finds your cheek, thumb swiping gently at the apple of it.

“Come see me in the morning. We’ll talk. We’ll figure something out.” She reassures you. The closest thing you’ve had to mother and best friend in ages.

* * *

 

Tommy’s still conflicted by the end of the day, long after everyone has had a good drink and gone home. You know it when he’s the first to suggest Charlie bunk with Finn for the night. It’s such a simple request, but one that tells you volumes for where Tommy is at tonight.

When you find yourselves alone in his room, he’s no better. Standing next to the fireplace, staring off into the flames as he pulls away at a cigarette, silently lost in his thoughts. You pull off your dress against the light of the flames, slipping off your stockings and knickers before unhooking your garter belt. You place your things in a neat pile on Tommy’s dresser and move to him.

You stop beside Tommy, taking the cigarette from his hand and bringing it to your lips, drawing his eyes to you as you do. You inhale deeply - it’s been a long day - before blowing the smoke past your lips and tossing the rest into the fire. 

You find Tommy’s gaze as you quietly unbutton his waistcoat and remove it from his shoulders. You hold his gaze as you slowly work free the buttons on his shirt and slip his button-down free from his tired arms. You tug his undershirt up his body, your fingernails dragging against his taunt stomach and chest, before undoing the buttons on his trousers, his gaze heavy upon you as you undress him. Tommy pulls his own shoes off before his trousers drop down his legs.

Standing tall beside the fire, Tommy looks at you with tired eyes, his soul weighed down. You gently cup his cheeks in your hands as you lean up on your toes and kiss his lips, soft and slow.

“Let’s go to bed.” You whisper against the softness of his mouth, before lowering back down to your heels and taking his hand. You move quietly against the hardwood floors, before your both climb into the small bed.

You settle in and watch as Tommy stares up at the ceiling as if he’s miles away.

“I got three.” He says absently as if he’s still reliving it all in his mind.

You turn on your side to face him, reaching out to run your hand tenderly against his face.

“It’s ok, Tommy.” You whisper to him softly. “It’s gonna be ok.”

He clears his throat as if something’s strangling him, his gaze never wavering from the ceiling – cracked and peeling above you.  Staring into everything you can’t see replaying in his mind.

“One of them point blank. And he looked up at me, Fee…” His voice trailing off, his breath moving heavier in his chest as you feel his jaw flex beneath your hand. This is the side of Tommy most people don’t get to see. The man with a soul, who can do unspeakable things, but struggles against the weight of them.

You scoot over in the bed, closer to him, snuggled up against his side as you bury your face in the curve of his neck.

“I’m sorry it came to that, Tommy, but I’m thankful you came home to us.”  You tell him honestly. You know it’s wrong to wish death upon another, but if it’s between the man you love and a stranger hell bent to do him harm, the choice doesn’t seem so hard.

Tommy finally moves with your words, or perhaps it’s the feel of your nuzzling against him, but suddenly his hands take ahold of you, tugging you onto him. Dragging your leg over his waist as he pulls the rest of you on top of his chest until your sprawled across his body. 

Your face is tucked beneath the crook of his neck, his jaw resting against your temple as his hand gets lost in your hair. The other runs lazily along the back of your thigh, down to the underside of your knee and back up underneath your slip, dipping his fingers beneath the seam.

“This a’right?” Tommy asks, the way he always does when he touches your body now. Ever since Al, he’s always making sure you’re comfortable with the way he touches you.

You nod against his neck, feeling the warmth and strength of his body beneath you. Hearing the faint rhythm of his heart beneath your ear. It’s comforting being wrapped around him. “It’s nice.” You admit.

“Can you breathe?” You check, making sure he’s comfortable as well.

Tommy holds you a little tighter against him as you feel his muscles begin to finally relax.

“I breathe better this way.” He says, and you believe him. In your time together, you’ve learned sometimes Tommy needs to feel you close to him, as close as he can get you. Something about it seems to calm him, and as the minutes pass, you listen as his breath slowly evens out.

You hold onto him, your body sprawled against him, legs spread across his hips. You want Tommy. Even after everything, feeling him this close, you want him. You want to feel him buried deep inside you, not this fears over what’s growing within your belly, gnawing at your until you can’t sleep. You want him to kiss you until he convinces you everything will be alright. 

You haven’t been together intimately since it happened and you can’t shake this sinking feeling you’re on in the brink of losing Tommy for good. You’re moving past Al’s brutality, but his baby? You can’t bear the thought of it as you snuggle tighter against Tommy’s chest, breathing him in and praying for the hundredth time this day. But this time it isn’t for Tom, it’s for yourself. 

Please lord, don’t let this true, you whisper silently in your head, over and over again… Don’t let this be happening.


	13. In The Bleak Midwinter || Part 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please note there following warnings for this chapter: Adult situations, flashbacks, mentions trauma, talk of abortion, Violence
> 
> When Polly mentions things being in their blood because they’re gypsies, and having some deep insight/foresight/psychic intuition. I am going purely off the character established in season four. This is in no way a reflection of actual romani cultures. And I mean absolutely no disrespect in anyway.

You can’t sleep. Your demons won’t let you rest. The threat of your impossible future haunts you into all hours of the night. Long after everyone else has succumb to sleep. You toss and turn, staring up at the ceiling, an itchy nagging feeling just under your skin until you finally give up and get out of bed. You’re running yourself a glass of water, trying not to wake the rest of the house, when you hear a noise come up from behind you in the kitchen – a creak of a board, a shuffle of movement. 

Spinning around quick, you hadn’t expected company in the dead of night like this, but you can’t say you’re surprised to find it’s Polly standing there, candle steady in her hand. Looking gorgeous as ever in her short curls and flowing nightdress against the dancing flame of the candle. You smile at her, the sight a pleasant surprise. A comforting one against the anxiousness the grips you tight tonight.

“Can’t sleep?” She asks, like a mother would to a child. Caring for you and after you in a way you haven’t experienced since you lived with your aunt Brona right after the birth of Finn.

You shake your head no, in response, placing your glass down on the counter, a forgotten thought before you’ve barely had a sip.

But Polly doesn’t mince words or opportunities as she places down the candle on the butcher’s block beside the stove and moves toward you as if she can see the anxiousness churning inside you.

“A’right then, so you’re up the duff?” She inquires without hesitation, without judgment, and the lack of reprisal on her breath and in her eyes settles some of the shame you’ve been flogging yourself with for days now.

“I believe so.” You answer quietly, eyes scanning around to ensure no one is in ear shot, but the house is quiet as a church, not even a board squeaks.

“When was your last flow?” She inquiries bluntly, getting straight to the point. Her big dark eyes holding you in the shadows that surround you both. She speaks with ease, but still her words threaten to swallow you alive with the magnitude of the answer as you muster the courage to speak.

“I don’t know.” You whisper as your face falls from hers, feeling foolish. 

You know it’s the sort of thing you should know without doubt, especially since you crawled into Tommy’s bed and never came out. A line you swore you’d never cross again after all the heartache and struggles you’ve endured to bring Finn into this world and then keep him alive. 

Even with the factory laborer, you had been careful, diligent, to do everything in your power to ensure you didn’t become pregnant. But with Tommy everything seemed so different. You were feeling things you never thought you would feel again. You thought with the tea… You see now you thought wrong.

“With John, an’ the Italians, there’s been so much… One, maybe two months. I can’t- I can’t be certain.” You admit on a shaken whisper, running a frustrated hand down your face, angry with yourself as you try to retrace it in your mind. Ever since coming to Small Heath the days have blended. Living under constant fear of death and grief, and then after Al… it’s been hard to get a good sense of time. But you know full well this is something you should have been diligently monitoring, you feel like a complete failure. 

How could you have been so foolish! One child out of wedlock is an unforgivable sin, but two and by different fathers, you feel a panic coming on just trying to imagine the kind of shame that would accompany that fate. What kind of woman that makes your morally. What kind of mother that makes you, to put Finn’s already fragile joy into jeopardy.

“Could it be iron. Have you tried tablets?” She asks, you see her running down the list of possibilities in her mind before jumping to any conclusions.

You shake your head sadly. “But it’s not just my flow… I’ve been sick lately, light headed sometimes, an’ my breasts are tender… I know what this is Pol.” You tell her, the words starting to choke you up as your throat tightens with an all too familiar fear. 

Heart pounding in your chest as you finally say the words aloud. Making them real and utterly terrifying in a way that plaguing your mind never could. You swore to yourself you’d never experience this again, never find yourself here, and yet, here you are.

“The tea didn’ work. I jus-“ Tears edge at your eyes as your voice wavers. You such in a sharp breath and pull yourself together, holding your belly tight as you force yourself to breath slowly.

“I was hopin’ you might know a woman who can help me.” Those words break your heart. You hate to say them. It’s never something you wanted. Never something you imagined doing. But you can’t do this to Finn. Destroy his world with your carelessness. And you can’t have that monster’s baby and you have no way knowing who the father is. A fact that makes your heart feel sick and leaves you shuttering harder with shame.

“The tea works. Did you forget to take?” Polly is certain, there’s no doubt in her eyes, but there is a peculiar intrigue that seems to light up in her gaze. You wish you could hold on to that same kind of certainty, but this is your body and you can feel what’s happening to it. It’s changing. There’s something inside it and no amount of debate about tea will change that.

Polly steps close to you, her hands unceremoniously reaching for your belly, pushing and palming against your stomach as your secret barely takes shape in her hand.

“No, never.” You finally answer her with a shake of your head, letting her carry out her inspection without a fuss. You swear it, you never forgot. Not once. Not something that important. Your attempts to monitor the situation may have been halfhearted at best, but your attempts to prevent it were steadfast.

Polly suddenly grabs at your breast, brief and quick as you jump a little, startled under her unexpected touch. You watch her eyes narrow with understanding as a quick huff leaves her chest before she quickly steps back.

Polly nods slowly looking you square in the eye to acknowledge the seriousness of your request. “I know a woman, but I warn you this one won’t go easy.” She smiles weakly at you.

You stare into her eyes, fear and confusion coiling and stirring about in your gut as your chest tightens with apprehension. “Why do you say that?” Almost afraid to ask.

She cups your cheeks gently in her weathered hands as she looks you square in the eye.

“Because this baby held on through that bloody match you had with the Italian and Shelby’s never go without a fight.”

Her words hit you like a shockwave, like the floor being ripped out from under you. Tears spring to your eyes with the implication. Your chest suffocating as it pulls in around your heart. “How do you know that? How can you be certain?”

Polly looks you square in the eye, the light of the candle’s flame dancing in her deep whiskey orbs.

“In that noose I died and now it’s as if a window has opened up and things reveal themselves to me… I feel the gypsy blood running through that baby’s veins and I’d guess you’re nearly three months gone.” She tells you without an ounce of doubt of her breath.

Her revelation leaves a rattled breath ripping your lips as tears of relief roll heavy down your cheeks, unable to hold them inside you any longer. You’re taken aback by her words. You don’t know if you believe in spirits and windows, but you can’t deny the unwavering certainty in Polly eyes, and you trust her. You know she would never deceive you over something like this. Never hurt you in such a way.

Her thumb wipes tenderly at your tears. “You thought it was the Italian’s.” Polly states, already seeing the answer in your eyes.

“I was scared. I didn’t know.” You admit on a shaken breath.

“That’s a Shelby growing inside there. And unless you’ve been with Arthur or Finn, it’s Tommy’s.” She tells you, cracking a smile at her joke. Knowing the relief that news must bring to you, but then a seriousness takes hold in her eyes. Polly cups your cheeks more firmly with it, looking you dead in the eye as she speaks.  

“This family’s cursed, Tommy most of all. You should know that before you make your decision. Life would never be easy with him, but it’s a girl and she’s strong like her mum.”

Polly’s words send tears spilling from your eyes all over again. A little girl. Tommy’s girl. Your chest rattles as you suck a deep breath in. Your hand settling low on your stomach as you run your thumb gently over the spot, letting yourself feel connected to this baby for the first time. Instead of solely fearing the weight of it. 

You know Tommy is more tortured than most. Some days half alive, but mostly dead. But you love him, and you love the little family you’ve built together with the boys. And you know there’s no guarantee Tommy will even want this baby. With so many enemy clawing at his back. After losing Grace. You don’t have the luxury of living in dreams, but knowing the baby is Tommy’s changes everything.

Releasing your face, Polly covers your hand with her own over your belly in a show support. “I’ll give you an address for a midwife tomorrow. She can confirm how gone you are without Tommy finding out… Think it over. You know where to find me if you still need my help.” She whispers softly, before placing a tender kiss upon your forehead. Slipping from you side, she leaves you alone with your thoughts as another round of tears rolls slowly off your eyes.

* * *

As you climb back into bed with Tommy, your mind is still a flurry of energy. Counting the days, retracing the steps of how you got here - as Charlie’s nanny, then Tommy’s friend before you became his bed fellow, and now… Now you love him. Deeply. Madly. And though he’s never said it, you’re quite certain he loves you too.  And now his baby is growing inside you, or at least Polly seems quite certain of it. The thought washes over you with uncertainty and excitement as you feel Tommy roll onto his side, reaching for you, wrapping his hand around your waist as he drags you against him in the bed.

“Where’d ya go?” You hear him quietly grumble against the back of your neck. His breath warm and thick with gravel from sleep.

“I was thirsty.” You explain as you feel Tommy pull you deep into the curve of his body, warm, solid, and safe. You focus on the feel of his breath moving evenly against the back of your neck as his arm winds around your waist, resting just above where his baby grows inside you, as he presses against you. You wrap your arm around his at your waist as your heart aches from the distance that still lingers between you. 

You miss him like a hole in your heart nothing else can fill. You haven’t attempted any real intimacy since the night neither of your dare speak of. It’s been over a month, and the reasons for that are just. You were healing, you weren’t ready to be intimate with someone yet and Tommy respected that. But lying here, having just heard Polly’s belief the baby inside you is Tommy’s, you realize you can’t go on like this. You need him. You miss him. You’re ready.

You rock gently against him, listening as Tommy groans quietly against your hair, but nothing more comes of it. It’s been so long and you know him so well, surely, he just assumes you’re readjusting in bed… Until you keep at it. Quietly relieved when you feel him come to life against. Taking solace in knowing some part of him still wants you. Even if it’s just the raw undiluted part of his manhood that can’t be quieted any more than it can be tamed.

“Fiona,” Tommy whispers to you. A hint of uncertainty as his breath flutters the hair tucked behind your ear. His voice so deep and gritty it makes your belly tighten with need and your hips press a little harder against him with the sound of it.

“Tommy,” You whisper back as a hunger you haven’t felt properly in far too long begins to reignite inside you. Your skin craves the feel of his touch, and knowing Tommy’s going to need a little assurance this is what you want - that you’re ready - you reach for his hand at your waist and slip it underneath your nightdress. Feeling shivers ripple under your skin as his palm drags slowly up your thigh to the curve of your hip. Inviting him to touch you.

Your breath quickens off your lips as Tommy slowly wraps his callused hand around the curve of your hip. Molding your flesh in his palm as he pulls you tighter against him.

“Is this a’right?” Tommy asks, bathed in a darkness that fills the room with an electric energy that makes anything possible. Making no assumptions. He needs to hear you say it. Tommy always takes the lead, he needs to feel in control, but after what happened to you, he also needs to know what you’re comfortable with. What you need, because if it was up to him, you’d already be naked and withering beneath him. 

He’s missed you so fucking badly. You’re the anchor in the chaos of his life. You hold him steady when everything else rips apart. But Tommy’s lips struggle to say those words. After the war he’s forgotten what they sound like coming off his breath. He can’t say it, but he can show it. Taking pride in his ability to take you higher than anyone else can, leave you begging for more, but he’s been holding all that back. Not wanting to press you for something you weren’t ready for yet.

“Yes.” Shaken by need, your thighs clench as you ache inside for him. Missing him from the deepest hollows of your heart, you reach for his hand and drag it down between the ache of your thighs.

“Touch me, Tommy.” You beg him, your voice as needy as you feel.

He reacts instantly, his breath hot on your flesh, as he groans against the back of your neck. The sound of it vibrates against you, stirring up memories of that last night before your met with Al. When the room could barely contain you both and all Tommy wanted was you trapped in the cage of his arms and the breath of his lips. Tommy peppers you with kisses as his fingers begin to slowly stroke you, your hips flexing against his touch, desperate for more.

You wither against his touch as his Tommy’s fingers roam and rediscover every place that makes you tick. Back and forth, circling against you until he has your knickers soaked against his deft fingertips. You exhale hard, a little in disappointment when his hand suddenly pulls back, unsure if he’s teasing you or stopping completely, but then you feel Tommy’s slip inside the seam of your knickers, his palm pressing against your belly, before he halts.

You can feel it racing in your heart from the unsteady twitch of his hand. Tommy needs your permission to proceed. The days of bold moves and blanked assumptions feel so far away after the brutality of what happened to you.

“Don’t stop.” Urgent and needy, you push his hand further down between your legs, giving you both what you want.

Tommy’s breath deepens sharply against your skin before it suddenly dies in his throat when his fingers meet your flesh. He groans deeply against your neck like a man on the edge of collapse, you shutter as the sound of it vibrates off your skin. He slips into your wetness and you cry out in relief, so desperate for his touch. Desperate to feel connected to him once again from the most intimate places upon you.

Slowly Tommy explores you like it’s the first time all over again. Making you feel desirable even after what’s been done. His fingers run teasingly along your entrance, sliding back up to rub his slick fingertips against you. As you lean into him, the feel of him sending shockwave rolling through your body with every curl of his finger.

“Tommy…Please…” You whimper and beg losing sense of yourself in his grip as the pressure buried deep between your thighs builds. You bury your face against the pillow to quiet the noise carrying from your lips, trying not to wake the children or anyone else in the thin walls of this home. The coil of your belly and the pang of your heart, tells you you need to feel him inside you again. Feel those rough luscious fingers that pull away at cigarette’s all day long, curl and bury deep within you the way they use to.

But what you don’t know is Tommy needs this just as bad as you do. He’s been patient, never pushing, but the nights have been long and torturous with your warm curves snuggles against him. It’s been killing him to have you beside him, and yet completely untouchable after the damage Al did.

“This what you need, love?” Tommy asks, his breath dangerously low as he sucks on the back of your neck, slipping two fingers within you, and curling them deep.

A gasps rips from your chest, your back arching against his chest as your hips jerk involuntarily into his hand. Your mind goes blank with the feel of the man you love inside you once again, moving within you as if you aren’t damaged, as if he still wants you, always will.

You rock faster against his fingers, hungry with need. It’s been so long, your body is already building and pushing toward release as Tommy reminds you no one can touch you the way he does. Palm flat, rubbing against your sensitive bud, Tommy’s fingers dip within you, keeping perfect rhythm with the frantic rock of your hips. Your body feels hypersensitive after being deprived of him for so long. You feel like you can’t take it, like you can’t catch your breath or the racing of your heart. Quickly your hand reaches behind you to dig and claw in his hair, needing to touch him, needing him to anchor you as you begin to unravel. 

The feel of having Tommy hard against you, his desire pressing at your back as his fingers push deep within you and suddenly your whole body starts to shake with pleasure. Your muscles tense, your breath catching in your throat as ecstasy rushes through your veins and you come hard around his fingers. Waves of rapture drowning you in a sea of bliss that steals the breath from your lips. Trembling and whimpering his name as Tommy holds you against his chest, never slowing down the unrelenting pace of his hand until you stop trembling and pulsing around his digits.

It takes you a moment to catch your breath as you come back down. Exhausted and spent from an explosive release that’s been building inside you for too long, but as Tommy’s hand pulls free, the empty feeling that takes his place tells you you still need him, and the feel of Tommy pressed hard against your back tells you he still needs you too. 

His hand is barely free of your knickers before you’re rolling onto your back to face him and dragging the silk down your legs. You glance over at Tommy in earnest, watching as his fingers slip into his mouth, licking the taste of you clean from his digits.  If you thought his eyes looked dangerous and drunk a moment ago, now they’re down right ravenous and deadly as he pulls his fingers free, humming with the taste of you on his tongue.

You reach for Tommy, the need palpable in your veins as you pull him into a desperate kiss. And Tommy’s just as hungry to taste your mouth as he was your arousal, as his tongue slips past the seam of your lips to stroke your own. Yanking his boxers down his legs, Tommy moves as if they can’t come off him fast enough. Tugging at the strong muscles that line his broad shoulders, you pull Tommy toward you in a frenzy, heart pounding hard for him in your chest. 

Your mouths meld and taste as Tommy slips between your thighs, tugging your nightdress high up on your waist, and out his way. Drowning in the need to taste of each other, Tommy’s tongue strokes you as he settles his weight down in the cradle of your thighs. The feel of his warm body settling across, skin brushing sensitive skin, sends a moan humming off your lips and disappearing into his waiting mouth.

Tommy pulls back for a moment of sanity, cradling your cheek as he stares down into your eyes. The look in his enchanting icy blues suddenly so soft and gentle as he gazes down on you.

“You want to stop, just say the word and it stops, ey?” Tommy promises, stroking his thumb tenderly along your cheek. Needing you to know you’re in control of this and he’d never do anything to you that you didn’t want him to.

For a man so rarely soft with others, his gentleness toward you and the sight of him like this melts your heart and makes you all the more desperate to have him.

“I want you,” You say, words dripping with need as you dig your fingers into his hair, dragging him back down to your lips, rocking your hips against him with impatience.

Tommy breathes hard against your mouth, nearly fucking unraveling at the need on your breath alone. He kisses you hard, the hold of his mouth echoing the words on your lips. Stealing your breath before he plants a trail of pecks and nips along the line of your jaw. Reaching that sensitive spot, just below your ear, Tommy makes you shiver as he runs his teeth over it as he thrusts inside your warm wet depths.

You cry out with the feel of him, full and completely yours once again as your arms clutch wildly around his neck, your legs locking around his hips. Holding him as close as possible, savoring this moment and the way it makes you feel whole and not alone all at the same time.

Tommy stops moving too, steady within you, flooded by the sensation of having you all his once again. Wrapped and clenched tightly around him, the feeling sends a string of curses both romani and English spilling from his lips against your neck as Tommy tries to maintain some semblance of self-control.

Tommy’s slow, deliberate, and careful as he starts to rock within you. You’d think he were trying to make love, but you know that’s not what this is, he’s unsure. Tommy’s unsure what you want, what you can handle, but after being deprived of the man you love for so long, careful isn’t what you want. You want him to love you with the same fire and passion he used to, as you dig your heels into arse, pushing him deeper with every thrust as you rock hips to meet his. Tommy knows you so well by now, he understands your unspoken words, as his forehead comes to rest against yours, his eyes barreling desperately down upon you.

“Faster?” He asks, his ragged breath trembling against your lips as his face holds tight, trying so hard to hold himself back for your sake.

“Faster,” You nod, kissing him hard as Tommy moans against your mouth in relief, letting his hips snap deep within you. It’s been so fucking long that you almost feel like a reckless youth, lost in the throes of passion as your hips roll to meet his every thrust as if you can’t get enough of him. You devour his mouth, hungry for the taste of him on your tongue, needing you as badly as you needs him. 

The energy is frantic, desperation rushing through your veins as you cling to each other, the small metal bedframe squeaking for mercy as it knocks into the wall. Tommy gives you everything he’s been holding inside. His fingers digging into the back of your thigh, gripping your leg higher against his hip as all his insatiable longing and unfulfilled desire for you savagely spills free.

His mouth leaves your own, trailing roughly down your neck as he ravages you, kissing and sucking away at your sensitive flesh as if he’s doesn’t give a damn what kind of marks he leaves in the morning. As if he wants the whole fucking world to know you’re his. Lost in the heat of passion, he bites down hard on the base of your neck like he has so many times before, growling against your skin as you wither beneath him, but this time something unexpected happens. 

This time a flash fills your mind. A memory – you’re down on the bed as Al sinks his teeth into your flesh pushing you to break and cry out. And suddenly, you’re shoving Tommy back from you as hard as you can before you even know what you’re doing. Your hands moving on instinct alone as your whole body goes rigid and your heart starts to race with fear instead of passion.

Tommy stops instantly, breath panting as he hovers over you and he quickly pulls out. Staring down at you, his endless oceans of blue blinding with concern as they rain down on you. His hand dares to cautiously touch the side of your cheek as he braces his weight on his other arm, trying to keep off you, give you room to breathe.

“It’s ok, Fee. You a’right?” Tommy asks, his eyes desperately searching your own, trying to understand what happened.

“Can you- can you not do that this time? …Please.” You voice sounds so rattled you hardly recognize it as your heart races tightly in your chest. Staring back into the depths of his blue eyes – blue, not brown – you hold onto the safety of knowing it’s Tommy. You’re with Tommy, but you still feel anxious. Still feel unsure of what happened. One moment your body was on fire and the next you’re trembling with a fear you hardly understand.

“Course,” Tommy nods, worry consuming his deep-set eyes as he runs his thumb tenderly along your cheek, before he rolls off you and onto his back against the mattress, to lay beside you. Chest rising and falling heavily, Tommy’s stares up at the ceiling, trying to cool off his body as anger and guilt rush through his veins. 

Guilt pummels his heart that he did something to remind you of that prick. Anger over all of it. That Al did things to you that left an imprint in your mind the way the shovels did for him.  It all comes rushing back at Tommy. What that bastard did to you. Did to you because of him. And maybe if you were still just Charlie’s nanny and not the woman he loves maybe you wouldn’t have been seen as leverage.

Tommy still can’t hardly think about it. Mostly, he tries to push it out of his mind until the time is right. But there’s still moments like this when it finds its way to the surface and fills him with so much blinding rage he can hardly contain it. It takes everything inside him to stay focused on the problem in front of him. He has to deal with Changretta and get the fuck out of the cage he’s been backed into in Small Heath and then Al’s his first priority. Tommy hasn’t said a word of this to Fiona, but he is determined to make that bastard pay for what he did. Now more than ever

The absence of Tommy leaves a hollow feeling reopening inside you. The proof that your scars still remain rattles you and leaves you unsure of yourself or who you are now. But you refuse to let that night steal all your happiness away. You’ve healed enough to decide you won’t let it take Tommy from you either. You refuse. Rolling onto your side, you snuggle against him and to your relief, he welcomes you into arms. 

Tommy doesn’t reject you like you worried he might, but the longing inside you still feels unquenched and you know it does for Tommy too though he won’t act on it now. Taking a bold step, you slip your hand beneath the blanket, and to your relief his body responds to the stroke of your hand almost instantly, reassuring you he still wants you. But you barely get a chance to touch him before Tommy is snatching your hand and dragging it back up to his chest, leaving your heart more confused than ever.

“It’s a’right, love. You don’ have to do that.” Tommy tells you, feeling guilty. He won’t treat you like that bastard. He won’t have you push your body to do things you aren’t ready for just to meet his needs. Especially not if you think it’s your duty after he took take of yours.

“Tommy, I want-“ You start, but he cuts you off before you can finish. Finding it hard to believe you actually want this after the fear he saw in your eyes.

“I’m sorry I frightened you.” Tommy says flatly, changing the subject. You’d think it was insincere, if you couldn’t see his eyes. His breath so low and steady, it sounds like a death order handed down from a Sargent Major to his subordinate infantry, but you can see in the depth of vulnerable blue eyes as they stare up at the ceiling… It kills him to think he scared you. And now he’s pulling away and shutting down, managing that feeling the only way Thomas Shelby knows how.

The look in Tommy’s eyes melt your heart as you lean up on your elbow and place tender kisses upon his shoulder, moving slowly down along the muscle of his chest. Letting your lips linger around his tattoo.

“You didn’t scare me.” You whisper against his skin, over the spot that covers his heart. Your hands roam over the muscles that contour and line his chest and taut stomach, the ridge of his pecks, the flex of his abs. There’s still traces of unease vibrating through your nerves, you can’t deny that, but they aren’t directed at Tommy. If anything, you feel safer by his side, in his arms. And you see now you’re both struggling from your own scars from that night. Tommy still feels guilty he didn’t prevent it, didn’t protect you. He doesn’t want to push you, but you need him to know this is still what you want.

Your knees dig into the bedding as you turn to him, your hands bracing against the solid warmth of his chest as move across him to straddle his hips.

“Fee-“ Tommy starts to protest before your eyes lock as you settle against him and he can see the passion reaching for him in your eyes.

“Tommy, you could never scare me.” You promise him. Staring down into those deep fucking eyes that pierce right through you like daggers, gnawing down deep in your belly. You don’t know what that was. It’s never happened to you before, but you’re sure of one thing… It had nothing to do with the way you feel about this man and had everything to do with what’s still lingering in you.

“I don’ entirely know what’s happened, Tommy, but I do know I still want you and I still want you to touch me… And I still want to touch you.” You confess, trying to explain it as best you can. Leaning down to place slow tender kisses along taut stomach for emphasis, leading a trail up his chest. Your blood pumping harder as you feel his muscles tighten slightly under your lips, responding to your touch. 

You know your gut was right as you feel Tommy’s hands splay against your hips. You lean back on him, staring down deep into his eyes, lost in anticipation of what’s to come, before slowly leaning down against his body to recapture the hunger of his mouth once again. With the demand of his kiss, the grip of hands roam the curves of your body, there’s no denying Tommy wants you. And there’s no denying you want him too as your hand slips between the press of your bodies, gripping and stroking him tightly as you draw him to your warmth, before you sink back down on him.

Tommy curses against your swollen lips as he breaks the kiss. Echoing the sharp intake of your breath. Your hands trail down his chest as you lean back on him, nails dragging against his flesh and along the muscles that contour his chest and taut stomach. Staring down into the madness of Tommy Shelby’s eyes, as penetrating as they are blue, you gather up your nightdress and pull it over your head, revealing yourself completely to him. The fabric barely slips over your head before your feel Tommy’s hands glide over your hips, his palms racing along your back. Sending shivers down your spine as he sits up on the bed, pulling you desperately close to steal your breath in a demanding kiss.

Your arms wrap around Tommy, feeling his muscles flex and tighten beneath your palms, his chest rise and fall flush against your own, so close his breathes could practically be yours. Tommy’s heart pounds as he moves you against him, wrapping his arms around your body, holding you close. He lightly rests his head against yours, his hand roaming and caressing all the places he knows will makes you shiver and sigh.

You run your hands up the back of his head just to feel his shorn hair pick against your palms, your back arching against him as your head falls back. Your mind lost in a haze of delirium, his hot skin flush with your own as the bow of your back sends Tommy pushing deeper within you, your bodies move perfectly in sync. You’re fighting for breath as your belly coils, pushing closer to the edge. And you know you’re not the only one dancing with fire as Tommy’s drag you more feverishly against him.

You breathe him in, this man you love. Staring deep into his eyes that mirror back your image as your noses brush and lips meet, as Tommy moves you both as if you were always made to joined like this. You love him, and he loves you, you can feel it in that moment as surely as you can feel his hands grip and mold at your flesh, as surely as you can feel his heavy breath upon your lips. 

And in that moment, everything else falls away. All the pain, all the guilt, the room and its bloody walls, until it’s only you and him, lost madly in each other. In the fever of what you can create between your bodies. Your thighs clench as your hands grip him tighter, feeling your body charge closer and closer to your mounting release. The pressure and hunger for it blinding back at you in the captive hold of his pupil.

You’re delirious and drunk off this moment, you’d stay here forever if you could, as the need for release builds rapidly inside you. You whimper his name chasing the high his body gives you, his love amplifies.

“That’s it, love. Let me feel you come.” Tommy encourages, his breath as ragged as the cry of his name off your lips.

“With me,” You beg him, pressing your lips frantically to his in your request as your pull Tommy impossibly closer against you. You need this to be with him. After everything. You need to find each other, burn alive together.

Gripping your hair tightly against the back of your head, Tommy nods against your mouth as you fight to hold back your release. Your body aching as he drags you faster against the length of him, filling you completely with every thrust, as his hands grow heavy and insistent against your sweat beaded skin. Your thighs tremble trying to hold off, you’re right on the edge of climaxing. Your mind unraveling under the pressure as you try to hold on, and then he says it.

“Now,” Tommy urges desperately against your lips in a rush of breath and suddenly, you let go, breathe gasping against his parted lips in frantic relief. 

Clinging desperately to Tommy as your head presses deeply against his. You stare lost and delirious into his icy eyes as cries of ecstasy fall from your lips and mirror his own.  Your bodies tremble as you hold onto one another, ecstasy racing like an inferno through your veins, the same euphoric fire dancing in the pupils of his dilated eyes as you climax together.

Your forehead rests against Tommy as your body nearly collapses against him, slick with mingled sweat, your panting breathes meet as a quiet hum still vibrates through you. You hold Tommy close as he holds you flush against him. You look deep into Tommy’s eyes, staring into the endless abyss of them, feeling as if there isn’t an ounce of space between you left in this world. Savoring the feel of seeing him completely, of feeling as if he can see you completely too. Connected in every way and completely unafraid.

As the moment passes your head comes to rest against his shoulder completely exhausted as you snuggle in his arms and feel Tommy’s face settle against your shoulder. Wrapped in each other, all warm flesh, tangled up tightly, your baby hidden between you. Running your hands along the back of his shorn hair, you finally speak.

“After Tony, I never thought I’d feel this way again… Never thought I wanted to.” You whisper to Tommy as you reflect upon your words, hoping he understands what you’re trying to say. That you love him. That you’ll always love him. And you see now there’s no hand grenade this world can throw at you that’s going to change that.

Tommy runs his hand gently up the length of your back, his fingers tangling in your wild hair as he leans in to place a soft kiss against your shoulder.

“…After Grace, I didn’t either.” His words settle under your skin and shiver down your spine as tears well up in your eyes. Maybe it’s the hormones. Maybe it’s just relief. But for the first time since you walked into that hotel lounge and faced Al over a month ago, you have hope you and Tommy will survive this.

 

For the first time in a long time you think things might finally be turning a corner. Things might finally be looking up.  The war with mafia seems to be shifting tides. Finally, back in each other’s arms where you belong, Tommy keeps you updated on the plans at hand. He knows the truth is important to you, so he gives it. Whispering to you in the dark about a deal he’s made with an American gangster named Al Capone. The connection your Al made for him, though he never says his name to you, not once. He tells you, now that Capone has his first shipments of gin he’s making arrangements for men to aid in ending this war with Changretta. The news fill your heart with hope. You know putting an end to this won’t be easy, but finally things are starting to go right.

Tommy’s busy. He’s always busy. You’ve grown so accustom to it you’re not sure what you’d do if he ever had time for leisure. In that way, he reminds you of your father. Never enough time. Not enough hours in the day to quench the kind of ambition that rumbles and wages war inside Tommy, calling out for blood before the day is thru. 

The upcoming fight consumes his mind most readily these days, as surely as the gin he keeps insisting everyone try. He’s going fucking mad. Like a horse kept cooped up in the stall too long. The vendetta has him back in a corner for the time being. Back to his roots, where he came from as if to remind Tommy he can never really escape it. And perhaps that’s what gets to Tommy the most, but you can’t be certain.

So when Tommy insists you accompany him and the rest of the family to a boxing match he’s holding, you can’t turn down the chance to spend a night out on the arm of your sweetheart. And the fact that he finally wants to show the world you’re his, gives you added hope things might actually work out. 

You haven’t told Tommy about the baby, there hasn’t been a chance, and if you’re honest, you’re still a little afraid. Unsure of how he’ll take the news or how he’ll want to proceed. But you saw the midwife Pol sent you to and she estimated you were nearly three months gone, effectively removing Al’s as a contender… you at least had that.

You don’t know what to expect on your night out. You’re never been to a fight before. Never been to a show of any kind really. Not since you were a girl. After Finn, money was too scarce to spend on entertainment of any kind. So when you arrive with Tommy and the rest of the family at a grand old theatre it nearly takes your breath away. Balconies and showboxes three floors high, but you get a front row seat like you’re a real Shelby.

Tommy looks dapper in a black suit and white undershirt. Sporting his fine wirer glasses that make you gnaw at your bottom lip just to stop yourself from biting his. You tell yourself he has no idea how handsome he is, what the sight of him does to you, but not even you are that fool hearty. Everyone is dressed in their finest attire, specialty dresses purchased just for tonight, and you worry you’ll have nothing suitable to wear. But Tommy’s taken care of that too. Thinking of everything, always one step ahead. 

He surprises you with a new dress. Black to match his suit, long and slinky, with sparkles like diamonds that glisten off the theatre lights, straps that hang thinly on your shoulders, with a back cut dangerously low. You feel beautiful. More beautiful than you can remember feeling in a very long time, but the way Tommy looks at you in the dress, his eyes fixated and unwavering before a sexy smirk slowly covers his face… You feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. You only hope you might be able to steal a few moments alone with him somewhere tonight.

You sit with the other Shelby women and Lizzie at the edge of ring. Across from the men, but still in the heart of it all. Watching as the fight unfolds between an unfair match in your opinion, one big, the other small. And as the fight begins, your eyes reach across the ring in search of him, but Tommy’s nowhere to be found and that’s when it starts… the uneasy feeling that begins to stir and come to life in your belly. 

At first you caulk it up to the pregnancy. You haven’t felt like yourself since you put the pieces together, but then it doesn’t leave you, even after Tommy finally returns. Your eyes focus on Tommy across the ring from you. Losing sight of the fight as your gaze zeros in on him. You’re filled with an unshakable sense of unease even as Tommy catches your gaze across the ropes and smiles over at your reassuringly.

You watch Arthur beside him. He’s agitated, fidgeting about, mouth going on about things you can’t make out, but clearly leave him unsettled. His movements only heighten the tension inside you. Validating its presence as he turns to his brother, muttering words you can’t hear him say. But you feel it deep in your bones the way you felt it the night your brother died… Somethings not right. You try to distract yourself with the fight. Get lost in the thirst for the blood the crowd is hungrily chanting for. Getting wrapped up in the rhythm of swinging fists and boxers dancing around the ring, light on their feet.

You even follow the ladies into the women’s lavatories as they pass around gin to swig, only you don’t swig just pass and only Polly knows why. You try to let yourself get lost in their banter about men crying for blood, but you can’t shake the tension building steadily inside you. As you all return to your seats for the fight, you force yourself to watch as the Romani boy, Bonnie gets the beating of a lifetime.

 You force yourself to enjoy the moment you were looking forward to so dearly earlier that day, but when Arthur storms off from his seat your eyes don’t miss it. You find yourself steadily moving to the edge of your seat as the fight disappears around you. And when Tommy stands abruptly, his eyes fixated on something you can’t pinpoint, before taking off after it, your heart jumps in your throat like a lump of coal to choke you with.

You don’t miss a beat as you rise numbly from your seat, heart hammering in your chest. Polly grabs at your arm in concern, but you only force a smile as you glance down at her.

“Lavartory.” You explain, not wanting to rile her up too if there’s nothing to report. You need to be certain before you make any claims. So as her arms releases you, you move steadily in the direction you saw Tommy disappear to, pushing through rowdy men as your heels stick to the spit and booze littering the floor.

Every instinct inside you screams something is wrong, it rattles in the hollows of your chest, tying your belly in knots with every step as the hairs on the back of your neck rise on end. You follow down a darken tile hallway, your heels clipping as your move. Until you enter a hall gleaming in blue lighting, bouncing and shining off the white tile walls until the whole areas glows like standing at the bottom of the sea. It leaves you with such unease, like standing at the bottom of the ocean and you can’t catch your breath.

Your heart hammers in your chest as your feet move slowly along the tile. Apprehension building in your heart with every step as you try to listen for Tommy. You find yourself second guessing turning down this way. Unsure you chose the right path. Your hand slowly finds its way across your belly, protectively clutching the tiny swell the way you would Finn if he were standing beside you. 

You find it hard to catch your breath as anxiety and tension build all around and deep within your bones. Then you hear it! A gun shot, the noise ringing off the tile walls, echoing around you. Moments later you hear Tommy’s voice hollering out for Arthur and you swear your heart stops beating all together inside your chest.

It only takes you a second, a second for sheer terror on your heart. And in the next, you’re clutching at the bottom of your dress as you race as fast as you call down that ominous corridor, you voice echoing around you as you go. Terrified you’re going to lose the man you love all over again. 

“Tommy!” You scream.

You have no weapon, there’s no thought or reason to your actions, just desperation and the desire to protect what’s precious to you. You turn abruptly at a corner, a wall of thick foggy steam surrounds you, envelopes you. Your heels freeze in their spot unable to see much of anything, it takes you a moment to adjust before you realize there’s a dead man lying sprawled at your feet.

You jump back in fright, your back slamming against the tile wall before you register Tommy calling your name and look up to find him crouched in the corner of the room, Arthur lying bloody in his hands.

“Get a fuckin towel- rag- somethin!” Tommy yells at you. He never yells at you, but the fear in his eyes is unmistakable as your frantically scan the room for anything usable. Snatching up the first piece of cloth you can find you rush over to him, trying not to slip on the slick tile.

Tommy grabs for your wrist, yanking you down to him as your knees slam hard against the unforgiving tile below, but you barely feel it as his eyes engulf you – his pupils dilated, a terrifying madness palpable in his gaze.

Tommy shoves your hands with the rag down against Arthur’s neck and the force of it sends your gaze following suit. You stare down at Arthur, blood soaked through the collar of his shirt, seeping out onto the white tiles around you as Tommy shoves your hands harder against his wound. You can feel yourself trembling, your mind scrambling to form any short of coherent thought when you feel Tommy’s hand cup your jaw and pull your face back up to his.

“I need ya to keep pressure on it, Fee. Gotta slow the bleeding. I have to go get some men and get Arthur outta here. But I need you to stay here and keep pressure on it, ey?” Tommy instructs you, his voice a low deadly whisper as he drags his blood smeared thumb across your cheek, trying to calm the panic racing off your breath.

You give him a shaky nod and that’s all Tommy needs as he rises to his feet. You hear a clank at your side moments later, and glance over to see Tommy’s placed a gun on the tile beside you.

“Keep this with you.” He orders, before the clip of his shoes against the tile can be heard quickly storming out of the room, leaving you completely alone with his brother’s life in your hands.

You glance back at down Arthur, his eyes wide and full of fear as your press firmly down on his neck, watching the rag your found darken with his blood. You notice the second pool of blood at your side and realize a few of his fingers have been nearly cut clean from the bone at the tips. You’re stomach churns as your push down the sudden urge to gag.

Drawing your eyes back to Arthur, you focus on only that. On reassuring him.

“It’s gonna be ok, Arthur. You’re gonna be a’right. Just stay with me. I’ll get Linda for you as soon as I can.” You promise, whispering to him softly as your words rattle with fear off your lips, heart pounding.

You feel his undamaged hand reach for you. Watch as it settles over the top of yours, before you turn one of your palms over and grip his hand tightly with reassurance. In that moment he reminds you so much of your brother the night you found lying beaten and dying in an alleyway outside the flat you shared. That fear a man gets in his eyes when he thinks this is the end. The fear you get in your own when you’re not sure if you’ll be the last thing they see. When you feel so small and helpless to change the rising tides.

But this won’t be that moment. Arthur won’t end up like your brother. You swear it as you clutch his hand tightly and hold back the tears shining in your eyes. “You’re gonna be a’right Arthur. I promise.” You repeat, forcing a smile for him, your chest so tight you can hardly breathe.


End file.
